


Vie

by Maizeysugah



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Bottom Harry, Dubious Consent, Light BDSM, M/M, Minor Violence, Mpreg Harry, Past Abuse, Rivalry, Romance, Rough Sex, Sexual Tension, Top Draco, a lot of swearing, sort of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-14
Updated: 2015-06-26
Packaged: 2018-04-04 07:54:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 70,996
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4130296
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maizeysugah/pseuds/Maizeysugah
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After finding out he has a year to produce a male heir to the Malfoy family or he'll lose everything, Draco Malfoy is sent the contract he signed. He can, in no way, impregnate any other female other than his Veela wife, who cannot have males. His father knows of one person in the world who can help him out; an old rival and savior of the wizarding world.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Untouchable Harry Potter

**Author's Note:**

> I started writing this before Deathly Hallows came out so it's not compliant. Mpreg and Veelas are a squick for me and it shows my awkwardness of it throughout the fic.I am not kind to either. Basically, this tale has the same premise as another story I wrote, The Space Between: how to get two people who really don't like each other to have lots of graphic sex. Instead of Voldemort and Harry I went with Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter because their tension in the books is really sexy, even if it is unintentional. I tried very hard to keep the personalities as canon as possible, I hope I don't disappoint. Thanks for reading :)

　

Malfoy Manor was unusually quiet during this time of the day. The normal patter of little feet and laughter was noticeably silent. Draco Malfoy sat across from his father rifling over a stack of marriage and inheritance contracts with a fine-tooth comb. “Brilliant, just… brilliant,” growled Lucius under his breath. “How could you allow this to happen, boy?”

Draco sighed heavily and kept his eyes glued to his papers. He was growing quite tired of being called ‘boy’ every five minutes. He hadn’t been a boy in nearly twelve years.

“This is ridiculous. You’re going to lose us every gold galleon that has been in this family for centuries. Not to mention…” He looked away as his words trailed off.

“Maybe you shouldn’t have sent me off to France,” Draco said. He looked down at his fourteenth child as she played with her toys beside his chair. “Darling, go on and find the nanny.” The tiny white-haired girl got up and ran out into the hall.

“Being a Malfoy, it is your job to at least do a bit of research into a woman’s lineage before you marry her. You assured me Matilda was a pureblood witch, not a pureblood Veela. You told me that bitch of a sister-in-law of mine had her screened,” said Lucius, curling his top lip up in a snarl. “But, as always, Andromeda manages to single-handedly destroy the family once more.”

“I had no choice. It was arranged without my consent.” Draco dropped his head in his hands. “I’m screwed. I’m nearly positive none of the harpies are really my children but I can’t prove it. If we could have one tested and it’s not mine, would that negate this?”

“Out of fourteen children only one is a witch. You’re probably right but that won’t help you. This contract is very specific about what your actions cause; not hers.” Lucius stood up and walked out of the den shaking his head sadly. “Very specific… wait a moment,” he murmured, easing himself back into the room. Crouching down in front of his file cabinet, he opened the bottom drawer and began skimming through its contents.

“What are you looking for?” Draco looked up from the desk to see what he was up to.

Lucius opened a large folder, packed with hundreds of photocopies. As he flipped through the pages his unsteady sighs grew deeper and more frequent.

Draco stood up, placing his weight over the desk to peer over his shoulder. Lucius plucked a few pages out of the folder and rested them on his knees. His head moved side by side, skimming over the encrypted words.

“What is it?”

“Yes! Yes, this is it!”

Giving Draco a shove back into his chair, Lucius tossed down several folders over the desk. “He’s still alive… I’m nearly positive. He would have to be,” he mumbled under his breath, scanning over page after page of documents. “Aha! As long as there’s a Horcrux out there it stays intact! Yes!”

“Father?”

“Oh, I’ve got it! Wait here!” cried Lucius, leaping over the desk to clutch his son’s shirt. He yanked him up and kissed him square on the lips before thrusting him back into his chair. He ran out of the room, the stacks of papers in his arms flying around the hall as he ran through the corridors.

“What have you got?!” cried Draco, thoroughly dazed.

* * *

“Ha ha! You’re not going to like this...” sung Lucius, grinning evilly as he reentered the room more than an hour later. “Neither will he.”

“He— who is he?” Draco fidgeted around with the buttons on his cuff, avoiding his father’s exuberant gaze.

“It was difficult. I can’t believe I actually got it. Cost me ten thousand galleons but the little fraud gave up the location.” Lucius shoved a piece of parchment into Draco’s hand. “Secret keepers are basically bribes waiting to happen in this day and age.”

“What is this?” he asked, looking down at the numbers and street name.

“That’s Severus Snape’s street address. It’s rumoured he lives there with him. It’s heavily warded against visitors, you’d better find a way to get in there,” said Lucius, crossing his arms in victory. “You owe me, boy. Oh, do you ever owe me.”

A rough head scratching while looking at the paper revealed nothing to Draco. He looked up at his father in complete confusedness and shrugged his shoulders. “I give up. What am I missing here?”

Lucius lost his impish grin. “What I’m about to tell you remains between us. It is a perversion, what they did. You tell no one. Do you understand?”

Draco nodded.

“I’m sure you can remember when You-Know-Who began killing just about anyone he deemed unfit in the wizarding world...” Lucius frowned as the words left his mouth. His wife was one such victim. “Anyway, he began experimenting on wizards. The prisoners in the camps who were strong enough to endure his torture were all rounded up and used as guinea pigs.”

Draco cocked an eyebrow. Severus was a prisoner, so were many of his classmates and friends. No one was safe once the Dark Lord had taken control over the Ministry. “Does this have something to do with Severus?” he asked. Snape was a touchy subject to Lucius.

Lucius shrugged. “Not directly. Although, I am aware that he was also used in other ways. I haven’t spoken to the man in nearly a year, and even then his words were few and far between. Something along the lines of ‘kill yourself’ and ‘you are dead to me’.”

“What were these experiments?”

“There was one boy whom the Dark Lord had a particular interest in. I’m sure you know of whom I’m speaking.” As Draco squinted in uncertainly, he nodded for him to continue. “Harry Potter. He was a prisoner there before he managed to kill off the old snake. Seven years, Draco. Seven years of torture and humiliation as The Dark Lord’s private plaything.”

“I didn’t know it was that bad. I thought, well, you know, they said it was just holding camps,” said Draco, furrowing his brow.

“Potter was captured shortly after completing his mission to destroy some ancient magic the Dark Lord had used to keep himself immortal. Horcruxes. He was eighteen years old. The Dark Lord, instead of killing him, realised part of his soul was attached to the boy, his last remaining Horcrux. He kept the boy’s friends alive to keep him compliant.”

Draco shivered. “You mean Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger?”

Lucius read over the papers. “Ronald Weasley, Hermione Granger, Luna Lovegood, Neville Longbottom, Ginny Weasley and Severus Snape were all housed together. The male Weasley, Granger and Snape survived. The Ministry denies that Mr. Potter escaped after Voldemort disappeared, they claim he’s dead.

“But I’m going off-track, where was I? Oh, yes. They experimented on all of them in one way or another, something ancient and horrible. I have the paperwork here, copies of the encampment files. It turns out that through that scar, Potter could wield a magic that was imprinted on him by his mother’s sacrifice to save his life. He was granted Love magic. It, and the Horcrux the Dark Lord gave him made him un-killable, far more powerful than he himself.”

“So Lord Voldemort experimented on him? Did you see any of this when he finally released you from prison?”

“I did,” Lucius said, frowning. “To be honest, I didn’t care what happened to any of them, except maybe Snape. I hardly saw Potter, he was kept elsewhere. You-Know-Who was obsessed with him, as he always had been in one way or another. Completely mental about him, he was. If someone looked at the boy for too long they’d be certainly hexed, or sometimes outright killed. I don’t know the details of what they did to Potter, but I do know the results. Results that will help you if you can pull this off.”

Draco blinked at him. “And that is…?”

Feeling uneasy about recounting this terrible thing, Lucius swallowed back the bile threatening to come up and spill out of him. “Okay, after testing the findings of hundreds of ancient, elder, modern and newly created curses on all of the Mudbloods, Half-Bloods and blood traitors they had captured, the Dark Lord himself cursed Potter with the most successful ones - to serve his purposes.He wanted to fuse Potter’s and his magical DNA together to birth a wizard that could wield both Parsel and Love magics. See where I’m heading, boy?”

The younger Malfoy shrugged. “Uh…experimenting with genetics - through curses? What kind of curses did he give him? What, what, what?”

Lucius clicked his tongue. “The Dark Lord gave the boy something that might just be able to help you out.” Grey eyes lit up gloriously.

"Okay..." Draco was almost afraid to ask. “What did they give him that could help me out?”

Lucius leaned in closely, peering down each side of the hallway to be certain no one was around. “The ability to magically create life.”

Draco blinked. “Are you saying…?”

Lucius dangled the files in front of him. “This marriage contract states you can never produce another child, let alone an heir, with another woman. Woman, Draco - He’s a man.”

“Er, I get what you’re saying… I think. I didn’t think that was possible. I’ve never heard of such a thing. Are you certain this happened? Why would he do that? What the fuck…” Draco looked like he might be sick. Even trying to imagine what his father was telling him made his skin crawl. Suddenly, he didn't think he wanted to know what happened in those camps. His mother was one of the prisoners in those camps. “Does he like…have a…is he a woman now? What the fuck, father? Did they do these thing to my mother, too? What were you people doing in these camps?”

“It’s not like that,” Lucius said. His cheeks were pink with embarrassment and shame. “Potter’s a man, he's all man. He doesn’t actually become pregnant…physically. It’s very complicated. It's like the growth is a parasite that consumes him to grow larger, stronger, to take on his DNA and become human. It doesn't start off as an embryo, I don't believe. I do remember that the boy, Potter, nearly died when they did this to him. He grew very weak, very sick, and the Dark Lord had all of his alchemists working day and night to save him."

"Is this really true?" Draco asked him, finding this tale hard to believe...in a sense that he now knew his father was working for Voldemort in the camps while these atrocities were happening. "And what about my mother...?"

"Look, Draco, we'll speak about the happenings inside the camps another time. Right now we need to focus our minds on this daunting task before it's too late." Lucius began to shake with worry. He was and would always be a coward, a man who couldn't save his wife and almost lost his son - the boy who had no idea how close he came to being hunted down and murdered, too. "Back to Potter," he said after clearing his throat. "I was told to watch over him when our master brought him out of his manor. He certainly never looked pregnant or fat or whatever, even days before he birthed it. That could have been an illusion charm; I’ll ask my contacts. The thing is...well, You-Know-Who wanted Potter to look and remain young and pretty forever. He was not to carry any blemishes, no marks. It was all very strange, a very uncomfortable time in my memory, for sure. The Dark Lord's own physical appearance began to change shortly thereafter. I was told his new human appearance was actually his true image, that he was quite the charming looker in his prime...before the darkness bled into him. And Potter remained young, pretty at all times...no matter how badly they treated him. And from what I hear Potter should have been dead more times than you can imagine. And then after, once the child was born...the Dark Lord took Potter on as his sole property, made him his personal whore, a kept possession that no other could ever touch again. They both looked like…you know, they were both really handsome.”

“Yeah, Potter was handsome,” Draco murmured, garnering him a look from his father.

“Oh, that’s right. I keep forgetting you’re a shirt lifter when I think of how many children you have.” Lucius shrugged off his disdain. “It’ll be a bonus for you in this situation, I suppose. You’ll have to copulate in order to activate whatever it does to make it happen. I’m positive of that. One of my contacts told me all about the monster and the niceties of screwing the Potter boy - in every way he could screw him, metaphorically and literally. That was something You-Know-Who insisted upon. He, it became known, was a bloody shirt lifter, too.”

“Merlin, father,” Draco said. His hand was on his neck, he looked pained. Knowing his own father took more disgust in his sexuality than the tale he was spinning at that moment was somewhat of an eye opener. “Doesn’t matter, he’s probably dead. I've heard he died killing the Dark Lord. And even if he wasn’t, he’s not going to open his door for me. We weren't exactly the best of friends. I’ll have to send off a letter or something.”

Shaking his head madly, Lucius threw down the files in front of his son. “Harry Potter is not dead, I’m nearly positive. However, you are correct; we were particularly unpleasant to him when he was a boy. I hardly think he’ll grant your wish through owl mail so you can keep our fortune. You’re going to have to appeal to him with the stark truth. Once you find a way inside, take the little one with you. Explain to him what losing our fortune really intails, Draco, give it everything you’ve got.”

Draco sighed. This task seemed impossible. “Right.”

* * *

Memorising the address made the large old house appear easily enough, getting to the front door was the problem. Draco watched as a blue bird flew a bit too close to the large home and fell to the ground as a pile of ash, completely incinerated. Obviously, the wards were a bit stronger here than on the average wizarding home. Three days he sat in front of it, watching, waiting for someone to enter or exit. Lucius had told him that the floo network attached to the building was also warded. It was impossible to apparate or disapparate either. The only entrance and exit was walking in or out thought the large front doors.

The crooked old street still showed the signs of war. It had been over for nearly three years and Draco hardly saw any of it, as he was sent away just before it started. He met his former wife the day he turned eighteen, and was made to marry her one whole week later. He lost everyone he ever loved, besides his father, when it finally ended by the thankful hand of the one and only Boy-Who-Lived. Harry disappeared the day Lord Voldemort died and hadn’t been seen since. The Ministry of Magic claimed Potter dead, but Draco could feel it, someone important was in that house.

As if Merlin himself smiled down on the young man, Draco’s eyes widened seeing an awfully familiar looking couple walk up to the front of the house. They peered around carelessly as Draco ducked down behind the tree he’d began to call ‘home’, and the redheaded man cast a very interesting and memorable spell in front of him to disable the wards. Instantly, lights flickered and died around the old building, and the witch and wizard walked up to the door.

Draco caught sight of Severus Snape as it opened to Ron and Hermione Weasley inside.

“Well I’ll be damned...”

* * *

“How in the hell did you get this address?” asked Draco, glaring at Lucius. “He’s got to be in there, father. This is serious. What if it gets out that he's still alive? Who was their secret keeper?”

Lucius waved it off. “Don’t worry - no one else will get the address. They had to use this...this person as a secret keeper as the Weasleys were still in the camps. He's one of their sort. Fortunately, he was down on his luck...relationship-wise, that is. He was sworn to secrecy with an offer he couldn't refuse, and he gave it up willingly in exchange for a glorious reward. No one else will ever get this information.”

Draco's eyes narrowed with unconscious distrust. “You got it. You knew...”

“I know everything,” Lucius argued. “Do you honestly think I'd set this up without insuring yours and the child's safety? I told you not to worry about it.”

“Whatever. I find this sudden knowledge of yours extremely suspicious. I’ll go and see them tomorrow. Right now I have to give Cissy her bath,” Draco told him as he walked off.

“Don’t wait too long,” his father said under his breath as his son turned the corner, “We’ll have to go with plan B if you fail.”

* * *

“Come here, love,” Draco picked the angelic three year old up from in front of her mound of toys and carried her off into the bath. He sat her on his lap as he filled the tub, giving her a gentle hug around her waist. “Were you good for papa while I was gone?”

“Mhm,” she said, smiling up at her daddy. She held her arms up as Draco lifted her sundress up over her head.

“Do you want to go with me tomorrow to meet someone?” He lowered her into the sudsy water.

“Yes,” she replied, grabbing her ducky from the bath toy basket.

Draco tipped her head back and poured a cup filled with water over her hair, soaking it thoroughly. The ducky began swimming around the tub, quacking loudly. Smiling sadly down at his only child left with him, he rubbed a pea-sized amount of shampoo into her hair and formed the suds up into a giant ball. “You promise to be very good for me? We’re going to see an old school professor and classmate of mine.” He ran his shaky hand through his own long white hair, pushing the chin lengths strands away from his forehead.

“Uh huh,” she grunted, lost in an attempt on making her toy cooperate and float in a straight line. She bit down at her tongue, trapping it between her teeth in stark concentration.

"Okay, let's finish this up, love." Draco rinsed her hair and washed her up as she splashed water all over the floor. He wrapped her in a towel and carried back out into her bedroom. She picked out her favourite nightgown and held her arms up as Draco slipped it on, then pulled her pants up and took her into his arms. Holding her up above his head, he spun around as she screamed in delight.

“Faster!”

“I’m going to be sick if I go any faster!” he exclaimed through fits of laughter. They both fell back on the large four-poster, out of breath and completely dizzy. Draco tucked her in under the covers and kissed her forehead. “I’m the best hair dryer in the whole world, now get some sleep, I love you.”

“I wuff you,” she said, holding his hand. She kissed it and closed her eyes.

* * *

Landing easily back in front of the old house with Narcissa strapped to his chest, Draco shrunk his broom and held up his wand, disabling the wards surrounding it. He hadn’t felt this nervous in years. He looked down at his free hand, seeing it shake uncontrollably. Unbuckling the child, he took her hand and walked up the path.

The front door opened and Severus Snape stuck his head out curiously. “Draco Malfoy?”

Draco lifted Narcissa back up in his arms and scurried up to the door. “Hey, Severus, it's been a while, eh? Err, can we come in?” he asked. Snape looked old, worn out, as if he hadn’t slept in years. His lengthy black hair was streaked with grey and hung in dull limp strands over his shoulders. His posture lacked it’s once looming overtone. He'd been put through the ringer, but he came out alive.

He opened the door and ushered them inside quickly. “Come on then. No dilly dally, son. How did you...Your father,” he said gloomily, showing his clear distaste. A noise vibrated in his throat, its depth and tone strung along in utter disappointment. "How is he? Dead, I hope?"

“Yeah, no, he's still alive...sorry, Sev,” he replied. He looked around the modestly furnished sitting room casually. It was pleasant, clean, the atmosphere around them making him feel welcome. It looked like a home; a real home, where people lived happily and hugged their children as they read bedtime stories to them. So unlike Malfoy Manor and it's cold hollowness. This looked like something he’d always dreamed of but had never touched before. He looked back at Severus and smiled with envy. “Nice place, and umm...I need to talk to Harry Potter.”

"Beg pardon?" Severus’s eyes widened briefly. “Harry Potter…I don’t know what you mean. He is dead, died years back. Okay then,” he said in a sing-songy voice as he moved back to the front door, "good to see you again. Tell your father I said die. I mean 'hi'."

“Don’t-hold that thought.” Holding up a finger to pause this situation, Draco dashed off and set Narcissa down in a chair at the opposite side of the room. He patted her head and forced a smile to comfort her.  “Stay here.”

“Okay,” she said, kicking her legs over the side of the chair.

He ran back to Severus, cocking his eyebrow as he crossed his arms over his chest. He was a Malfoy through and through; Malfoys were tall, strong, opinionated, and they always got what they wanted. “Don’t fuck around, Snape, I'm not stupid. There's no way in hell you live here on your own in this homey setting. You're as cold as they come; then and now. He's here. I know he’s here.”

Severus eyed at the small girl across the room, hardly intimidated with the younger Malfoy heir. “Is that your child?” he asked, looking her over carefully. A small smile curled up at the corners of his mouth. She was literally a pint-sized version of Draco's dead mother, mimicking nearly every physical feature she possessed. She was also blessed with Malfoy white hair and pale grey eyes. She looked like a tiny angel sitting there on the seat, flirting with her father with little smiles and giggles. “She looks just like Narcissa. So much so...she’s beautiful.”

“Her name is Cissy. She’s my fourteenth. My ex-wife has the others.” Draco gave the small child a wink and a wave. She waved back; her enormous grey eyes attempted to wink, but only managed to blink. “She was the only one who didn’t turn out like her; a psychotic Veela. I mean, she is half-Veela and she’s a witch, when none of my other lovely daughters failed to become. So, of course, she was rejected by her wicked mother,” he added.

“Perhaps she’d like to meet Harry’s little boy. He’s upstairs in his room. _He has loads of toys_ ,” Severus commented, directing his words to the little girl.

“Okay!” she said, climbing off the chair and running over to his side.

“Follow me.” Severus walked up the stairs in the back of the room. Draco and Narcissa followed closely behind. They reached a small darkened hallway. With a wave of his wand, Severus lit the torches on the corridor walls and beckoned them over to him.

Opening the first door on the left, Severus stepped inside and ushered them both in with him.

Like the front of the home, this was as lovely a bedroom as a homey home could have. It was decorated in luminous blue chalks and dark stained wood. It was filled with little furniture and mounds of toys. And in the farthest corner of the room, there sat a small boy of about three or four years, drawing in a colouring book on the floor.

Instantly, Draco knew this child was Harry Potter’s son. "Wow, this a mini Potter?"

The boy looked up at them nervously; he looked very much like Harry when he was young; with untidy jet-black hair, adorable cherubic face and the green in his hazel eyes practically glowed; there was little doubt in his mind about that.

"Well, yes, genius," Snape replied.

“Hullo,” the boy said, and stood up from the floor. He was much taller than an average three year old. His little shorts had bunched up on his thighs and his t-shirt rode up on his tummy. He patted the crown of his head to hide the spikes of hair jutting out at every angle, staring back at the very tall elfish-looking man next to Severus in trepidation. There was a little scar on his upper arm that looked very familiar. It was in the shape of a lightning bolt, just like the one Harry had. "I didn't think you could inherit scars."

“Don't be stupid. _Marvolo, this is Cissy,_ ” Severus said in introduction, gesturing to the timid girl who was twisting her dress up in her hands while staring at the floor intently.

Draco leered. “Marvolo?”

Severus waved the question away.

“Hi,” he said, giving his attention and a sweet smile to the little white-haired girl.

“Hi,” she replied, her voice cracked and she hid quickly behind Draco’s legs in complete humiliation. The handsome blond chuckled and walked her back into view.

Severus nearly smiled. “Marvolo, do you think Cissy can colour with you while I talk to her father?”

“Yeah, of course.” Marvolo smiled, excited to play with someone else who was not a boring, stuffy adult. He walked over and held out his hand to the other child. Cissy took it and let him lead her over to his colouring book. “You sit here, little girl,” he said, pointing to the spot opposite of his sitting area. “You may watch me colour, or you can help me, if you’d like." He dropped a handful of crayons in front of her as she settled down onto her stomach. "Use those colours.” She grabbed up several crayons as the boy plopped down on his stomach once more to resume his colouring.

“They’ll be fine,” Severus said, and stepped out into the hall. Draco followed and closed the door behind him.

“So, that’s Potter's son? Who’s his mother; Granger?” he asked. “Or the...You know, what my father...That’s not the…uh…”

Severus’ lip twitched. “That’s for Harry to tell if he chooses,” he replied. “Unlike your cockroach of a father, I do not give up secrets so easily. Now, why do you want to see him? Harry was never a friend of yours, Draco.”

“I have a proposition to make. I’m in a bit of a bind and been told he’s my last hope.” Draco ran his fingers through his hair, wishing he could crawl up in a corner and hide. The look Snape was giving him was humiliating.

“And what is this proposition?” said Severus, a slight sneer appearing on his features, unnerving Draco.

“I’d prefer to discuss this with him, Sev.”

“ _Discuss what?_ ” a voice said behind them.

Draco and Severus turned around.

Harry Potter was standing there, very much alive and kicking. He hadn’t aged a day, Draco thought to himself as he scanned him over. Nothing much about him had changed at all; he still had that same unruly hair and rounded glasses perched on his nose, hiding his sweet face. If anything, he looked more attractive than he’d remembered him looking. His bright green eyes scanned Draco over as well before centring on his face, narrowing. Harry’s clothing was impeccably neat but it covered every inch of his body, showing only his face and tips of his fingers. Odd for the summer months, he thought.

Harry tugged at his sleeves unconsciously, seeing Draco’s eyes focus on them. “Draco Malfoy, back from the hole he buried his head in. You look healthy, vibrant, unaffected by the ravages of war. I do hope all that rest and relaxation in France suited you,” he said, cocking his eyebrow. He turned to Snape, pointing a shaking finger at Draco. “What’s he doing standing here by my boy’s room?”

Severus smiled, ignoring the sneer. “He brought his own young child. I put her in with Marvolo to play so you two could talk without interruption.”

“Ah,” Harry replied, looking slightly less concerned. His attention returned to his former rival. “Why is he here? How did he get inside?”

Severus stood quietly as both men sized the other up for several long minutes. Rolling his eyes in boredom, he walked across the hall and pointed to his den. “Please, you should talk in here. I’ll watch the children.”

Harry nodded and walked past the other man without a word. Draco walked in behind him and closed the door, shaking like a leaf.

* * *

Harry sat back in the desk chair eyeing his old nemesis. He tugged his sleeves down again, hiding his fingers from view. He was unreadable; Draco had no idea how badly the war had effected him. He did not smile or scowl, he just sat in stoic grace as he waited for the blond to begin. "Well, say something," he told him. He was somewhat relishing in the way his presence was making this old nemesis squirm.

Draco cleared his throat with nervousness. “Okay, I know this may sound extremely selfish and rude, but I swear I’ll make it very worth your while,” he began, hating the sound of his words.

"Selfish and rude? No-you?" Potter replied, smirking at him.

"Right." Draco knew he deserved that jab. He wasn't going to let it unnerve him, not when something this important needed to be said. “I heard you, uh, I...well, I-”

“You heard what?” Harry asked him.

Cringing, Draco dug his fingernails into his thigh to keep his composure. “This isn’t easy. Maybe I should explain myself first, about my wife and family.”

Harry nodded and leaned further back into his chair in a more relaxed posture.

Draco chose to look away as he began, to give Harry the respect he deserved for ending the war by killing the Dark Lord. It was hard sitting there, now knowing the young man had been used as a slave when his biggest worry during that time was being on middle-of-the-night bottle feedings. “Shortly after the war went into full swing, I was thrown into an arranged marriage. My mother...well, she put me in hiding on my father’s advice before the war started. You know, after the uh, the Dumbledore incident. I lived with my aunt in this little French Muggle village that filled up with witches and wizards in a matter of days, all of them being sent into hiding like me. My auntie started getting death threats, all directed at me because of who my father was and his loyalty to the Dark Lord. She got desperate, she promises this important Veela family I'll marry their daughter in exchange for their protection. It didn’t matter that I was gay. I was told I would love her unconditionally because Veelas have some kind of power over all men.”

“Is that true?” Harry asked, remembering the powerful attraction Ron had felt for Fleur Delacour during their forth year. He could remember his own need to impress the Veelas at the Quidditch World Cup. And, hearing Draco admit that he was also gay was intriguing, to say the least.

Draco finally looked Harry in the eye and shook his head. “Not at all. But, since my mother was dead by then and father was still in Azkaban, Aunt Andromeda, the Muggle-loving nutter, had become my guardian. She made me sign contracts I didn’t get to read. This was a week before my eighteenth birthday. I married this mad cow-of-a woman one week later - and had thirteen very odd daughters with her, all of whom loathe me with murderous passion."

"Thirteen?" Harry blinked. "The war started a little more than ten years ago."

Nodding, Draco explained. "They just began popping out like litters of puppies. First twins, and then a set of triplets, another set of triplets, then twins again, then another set of triplets…and finally my last one, Narcissa, was born.

“Well, she was different. While all the others bore Veela facial features and innate traits like their mummy, she looked like me, she was a Malfoy. And I do think I recall having sex with Matilda about nine months before she was born, when I couldn’t remember really being intimate with her before that, besides maybe our wedding night. It’s all a blur; I was drunk throughout the entire marriage. The first thirteen are probably not mine. They all looked so different from me and Narcissa, and they get frighteningly emotional, even at birth. A hungry dominant monster baby is not, in the least, adorable.”

“Monster babies? What did they look like?” said Harry, stifling a smirk.

“Err...Veelas,” he replied. “They’re all Veelas. All of them, except Cissy.”

“Unnaturally beautiful? Like Fleur Delacour? She was one quarter Veela.”

“Yes, but only Cissy was born as a half-Veela half-witch for some reason. It’s as if my genes were lost to the other thirteen. They are magical creatures, but none of them are witches.”

Harry leaned in closer with interest. “So, they’re not like fully human? I recall those Veela mascots looking quite human at the Quidditch World Cup.”

“Sure, when they're getting their way and the money is plentiful, but not when they’re angry with you.” Draco said with a strange titter. “Dear god, it was a nightmare. They grow…beaks and they sprout these leathery wings from their shoulderblades. They hurl balls of fire at you if you tell them they can’t have a biscuit after ten. These girls were always angry with me.”

“I can't imagine why,” Harry said, snickering.

Trying to stay grounded, Draco let the insult slide. “Anyway, the day Cissy was born; the old cow went completely mad. Said we ruined her. I went back home and the war was ending. Then I get a letter a few days ago demanding a divorce, which is fine with me. I never cared for the wretched beast and it assured me that being gay wasn’t such a bad thing after all. But then I got to read the contracts, I nearly died.” He dropped his head in his hands for a moment, hiding his anger.

Harry listened to his heavy breaths between his hands. “Are you okay?” he asked.

Draco looked up, snapping from his reverie. “Oh, yeah, sorry,” he said softly, his face flushed and pink.

“So, what’d the contracts say? Let me guess; she gets everything?”

Draco blanched. “Yeah, everything I possess if I don’t produce an heir by my thirtieth birthday.”

“You have an heir. Fourteen of them,” Harry replied, growing wary. This was not what he expected to hear. He hoped this conversation would not shift to his ability to-

“A male, Potter.. I have to have a male heir. I find out this was written into the marriage contract, as well as my inheritance. Well, turns out she can’t have males! Her line of Veela cannot produce male offspring. Her family duped us into signing away my fortune. And, to top it off, she was using me to farm harpy babies for her while she waited for me to age or die.”

Harry pursed his lips. He fidgeted in place for a moment, toying with a quill on the desk. Without looking up, he said, “Why can’t you have a child with someone else? Does the contract say it has to be with her?”

"No, not at all." Draco felt his heart begin its plummet into his stomach. “See, that’s where this gets tricky. When Cissy was born Matilda got pretty nervous. The chances of her having a son looked more plausible after giving birth to a Veela who was also a witch. Perhaps her lineage was not as pure and ‘all female’ as she had been told." He stopped to breathe. Looking Potter in the eye while he worked out how to ask him to give him an heir inside his head took up too much brain power. He could see that Harry was more intelligent than he assumed his was. That Harry was already trying to quess what he was about to ask. "The contract it states...well, this is where you come in. Just let me finish before you chuck me out, okay?”

Harry bit his lower lip, but nodded curtly. His light green eyes were locked onto Draco, making it difficult for him to spit it out. He flicked his fingers at him in a tetchy manner, growing more than just cautious. "Spit it out, Malfoy."

Taking several large breaths, Draco found the courage to ask him for help. “Malfoy bloodlines must be carried on, hence the need for a male. They knew this and exploited it, but they made a very small mistake my father discovered last week. I have to have a male heir, but I can not adopt, donate sperm to, or have intercourse— impregnate in any way, shape or form with another - Oh Merlin, here we go...another woman. If I do not have this male heir by midnight on my thirtieth birthday, we will lose everything I now or will possess.”

Harry heaved in a deep breath of his own, so he could use it to start shouting. “Are you fucking joking? Forget it, Malfoy!” He stood from his chair abruptly, knocking it to the floor.

“You said you’d let me finish!” Draco hissed back, knocking his own chair away as he stood up. "You haven't heard the details yet!"

“What do you think you could possibly say to make me want to say ‘yes’ to you? Offer me money? I don’t need it! I don’t need this in my life. I won’t be _your_ baby farm, Malfoy! Get the hell out of here!” he shouted as he pointed to the door.

Draco screwed up his features and balled his hands into fists. “When I said lose everything, I meant _EVERYTHING!_ That includes my daughter!”

Harry froze. His jaw hung open like a fish as he began to register what the ex-Slytherin was implying. “But…er, you could visit her, I’m sure. I do understand what you’re saying, you know…”

“No, you don’t get it.” Draco looked up at him with tears of frustration welling up in his eyes. “Look, Potter, it's not that simple...I don’t care about the money, and I’d run and hide her away if I could. But with the contract magically bound to me they would find us no matter where we go." The tears grew too large to stay suspended on his bottom lashes and left a trail of damp sadness drawn on his cheeks. "Besides my mother, Cissy is the only thing I have ever truly loved. She is all I have in the world. She is the only thing I have ever done right by. I strive to be a better person because of her. I want her to be proud of me, I want to set an example for her...she's all I have, Potter, all I have.”

There was a long pregnant pause. Harry looked down at the desk, averting his eyes from his former rival.

Draco turned his chair upright with wavering fingers and sat back down. He brushed the long strands of silvery-white hair from his face and composed himself for a moment.

Harry could not imagine his own child being taken away from him. But, then again, his child's other parent was no mere Veela. Even so, the thought of losing his only child began to melt the ice encasing his heart.

“Look, I’ll give you anything you want, Potter,” Draco said, shrugging with defeat. “I'm almost positive Matilda was trying to drown her in the sink the day I took Cissy and left. I walked into the loo, she had her submerged in water, she was hunched over her with sprouted wings. So you see, if she gets her back, and she will get her back once I hit thirty if I do not have this heir…she will probably kill her to hide the evidence of her imperfect bloodline.”

Harry closed his mouth, the angry words he was trying to spew had long since died. He crossed his arms over his chest as he watched Draco wipe a tear away from his cheek. The man was a mess. He was truly desperate. With a deep breath, Harry let himself calm his heated temper in order to continue. He righted his chair and sat down, leaning into the desk. “So let me get this straight; you want me to give you a son, an heir before you turn thirty...what if I say 'yes', what’s to become of this child? - What happens to this baby?” His words were cold but understandable. It was a question Draco himself had not pondered over yet.

"I don't know." Draco scrubbed his face in his hands, feeling drained. “Whatever you want, Potter...I'll give you anything you want.”

As a glimmer of hope took hold of all rational thought, Harry looked back at him. He slapped down on the desktop as he leaned in toward the other man. His eyes grew dark. “There is something I want.”

* * *

"Did you meet with him?" Lucius greeted his son in the parlour of Malfoy Manor, bombarding him with questions about the visit. “What did he say? Will he do it?”

Draco walked with Cissy to her room, pretending he hadn’t noticed the older man. “Are you ready for bed?”

"Do not leave me hanging, boy." Snapping his fingers, a small house-elf popped into the room in response.

“You called me, Master Malfoy?”

“Yes, please put Narcissa to bed so I can talk with her father,” Lucius said with a sneer. He grabbed Draco’s arm and wrenched him from the room as the other man blew a kiss to the little girl climbing up in her bed. He dragged him down the long hallway and shoved him into the den. “Now, tell me everything.”

“He said he’s going to think about it,” Draco replied, as if Potter was considering buying a new kitchen appliance.

Lucius sighed. He didn’t really want to revert to plan B but his son’s news didn’t sound very promising. He closed the door to the den and put his back against the wall. He tipped his head, letting the evil half of his brain take over. “How hard do you think it would be to kidnap him?”

Draco cocked his head. “What?”

“Potter. We’ll kidnap him. I’m thinking tonight.”

“No.”

“Tomorrow?” Lucius asked him, shrugging.

Draco groaned. “No. We’re not going to kidnap him any time, you old fool. I think he’s been through enough already.”

Having not considered what horrors Harry had gone through during the war or how uncouth kidnapping him was, Lucius clenched up, furious at Potter's lack of empathy for him. “I thought he was a hero. Is he aware you’ll lose that child? That she’ll die? I won’t risk it!”

“We’re going to meet again tomorrow about doing this. But first, he needs to discuss it with…Gods, he needs to talk it over with the Weasleys.” 

Lucius made a face. “All of them? Could take years.”

“It’s only Ron and Hermione. I’m sure that’ll go over well. Those three were my worst enemies in school.” Draco yawned and stretched, needing a good nights rest. He had exhausted himself with worry, something he found himself doing every single night since he received that letter. “I’m tired, going to bed.”

“Draco, if he doesn’t agree by tomorrow plan B will go into effect. I will have it arranged,” Lucius said as his son passed him to leave. 

Ignoring him, Draco shoved by him and left. Harry would do it – he knew he would.

* * *

Harry sat behind his desk silently as he listened to his friends go over all of the details he had given them about Malfoy and his proposition. This discussion was just as awkward and uncomfortable as the one he had with Malfoy the day before. He watched their body language, how both of them had adopted defencive postures at the idea of doing anything for Draco Malfoy, let alone risk his life to again do the unnatural.

Hermione sat back in her seat dazedly, shaking her head for nearly an hour. "I'm still trying to figure out whether this is some sort of sick prank you're playing on his, Harry. Please tell me this is a joke."

Ron was a lot more dramatic about it. He sat on the edge of Harry’s desk polishing his Auror badge, something he normally did when he wanted to hurt something. “So, he’ll be back here soon, eh? Can’t wait.” He watched the clock over Harry’s shoulder before turning to his wife. “Imagine the bollocks that sodding prick must lug around. Can you believe he could ask him to do this?” he spouted, hitching his thumb at Harry.

“It’s an awful idea. This is about as low as a Malfoy can go,” she replied in agreement with her husband. Her head remained in sway. “And what do you get out of risking your life again to do the unnatural, Harry? Maybe your memory’s gone bad.” She prodded a finger against her temple several times. “Try thinking back, you nearly died last time.”

Ron shifted around uncomfortably, staring Harry down from above. “You shouldn’t let him back in here. What do you think he’s going to do if you say no, Harry? He’ll find a way to make you do it. Who knows what he and his father have planned." He tensed up at the idea of Harry being put in harm's way again. He had been through too much already, he wouldn't survive. "It's obvious there's been a breach of confidentiality. He now has means to enter and leave here as he pleases. Who knows how many others he allies with have the address, too. We’ll switch up the wards and you’ll make me the Secret Keeper. He’s not getting back inside.”

Harry hadn’t thought of that. He also hadn’t told the Weasleys about his own selfish reasoning for saying 'yes' to it. “Oh, c'mon. Everyone changes, Ron. I’m not keen on doing this, but you should have seen him. After talking with him for over an hour I didn’t say 'yes', but I couldn’t say 'no'.”

The Auror swelled with anger at Harry's lack of trying to see the bigger picture once he made up his mind on something. “And what about the one you have already? You remember what happened with the first one, right? We all know that Marvolo could just as easily turn into-”

“Ron!” shouted Hermione. She turned to her friend in shock. “He didn’t mean that, Harry. Marvolo is a lovely child. He's nothing like him.”

Harry narrowed his eyes and tugged at his sleeves to keep himself grounded. “It’s all right, ‘mione. He can come out and say it. I know he’s wanted to for a long time.”

“Marvolo’s just like his father, he’s going to turn into what-” Ron turned to the door and snapped his mouth shut.

Severus and Marvolo were standing there in the doorway glaring back at him.

“I was going to suggest lunch, but I see that you’re still discussing matters.” Severus took the small boy’s hand and led him off. Both he and Marvolo glared at Ron again before walking away.

Hermione dropped her head in her hands and sighed. "Great job as always, Ron. Brilliant."

“So, you think I'm thick, Ron? You think I'm a push-over, just going to let him do his thing whether I allow it or not? I’m a bit stronger than that, I won't let that happen.” Harry stood up and walked to the door. “I'm done with this. I think you should go.”

“Don’t do anything stupid. I didn’t mean what I said; it’s just the Auror in me. It's Malfoy that worries me. Your boy is all right, I’m just…” Ron blurted out as Hermione dragged him to the door.

“A complete twat- Yeah, I know. Good bye," Harry finished for him.

“We'll support you in whatever you choose. Good bye, Harry.” Hermione grabbed her husband’s arm and gave Harry a sad smile as they left.

* * *

After watching the Weasley’s leave and taking another twenty minutes to compose himself, Draco walked up to the door and knocked. He had decidedly left his daughter at home, hoping Harry wouldn’t be swayed from doing it if he thought his old adversary was using the small child as a crutch.

“Come in. He’s upstairs,” Severus informed him, holding the door open for him with a sneer.

On wobbled legs, Draco ascended the steps. Maybe kidnapping wasn’t such a bad idea. He could just hit him over the head or something when he wasn’t looking, or—

“I’ll do it.”

Draco snapped out of his reverie and looked up. Harry was standing in the hall, leaning on the wall beneath a flickering torch. He wasn’t sure whether he should drop to his knees and kiss the man’s feet or continue standing on the last step with his mouth hanging open. “Are you sure?”

Harry looked off toward his son’s room. “Yep, I'm sure. I’m positive.” He held up a finger before Malfoy opened up his big yap and said something stupid. “But-there will be conditions set in place. You’re not getting off so easy. This is under my terms. I want something out of this, too.”

Draco nearly swallowed his own tongue. “Of course, Potter. We can work all the details out.” He stepped closer and held his hand out, but Harry backed up quickly in retreat.

“Please don’t touch me,” he said, yanking his sleeves down over his hands and hiding them behind his back.

"Seeriously, Potter?" Draco dropped his hand back to his side. “Give me a break, I wasn’t going to hurt you,” he said, suppressing a sneer. “We’re not enemies anymore. I only wanted to-”

“It’s not that, Malfoy.” Harry flushed pink and turned away. "It's more complicated than that. We'll talk about it when the time is right."

“Look,” Draco said, taking another bold step toward him, “if you’re scarred up or something…I don’t care about that. My father’s got loads of scars all over his back from attacks in Azkaban. I’m not here to judge you. Besides, I think you look as young as you did in school.”

“There are no scars.” Harry took another step back, keeping their distance. "Why are you coming closer? Didn't I just ask you not to touch me?"

Draco hardly heard him protest. He knew Harry had him by the bollocks on this deal, but he wasn't going to allow him to dominate this whole situation. If they were going to make a baby together they would have to get closer to one another, both emotionally as well as physically. “I’ve heard loads of wizards from the camps have...you know...issues. We can deal with that if you've gone mental or something. I know a Medi-Wizard who specialises in-”

“No, It’s not that either, you arrogant jackass!” Harry barked back. He turned to face his den and opened the door. “Stop trying to one-up me. You don't understand, and you won't until I explain it to you. We should probably get to work on the details.”

Without even thinking, Draco’s arm acted on its own and snaked out, his hand snatching the other man by the wrist before he got too far away. Only the very tip of his thumb pressed against a bit of exposed skin under one of the crocheted holes in the yarn, but it was enough to cause a reaction.

Harry seized up. “No, Malfoy, you can't...” Before he could go on, he doubled over as a powerful surge of fury flooded into him. Helpless to stop, he snatched out, grabbing Draco by the throat. His strength was unfounded and they were both on the floor in an instant. His buried rage, his underlying hate for Draco and the primal lust for violence within all men burgeoned past all rational thought. Harry took one hand off his rival's throat and brought it crashing into his chin.

Draco gasped for air as he dug his nails into Harry's arms. He sunk his hand into Harry’s hair, yanking his head to his shoulder. The man's eyes had gone cloudy and unfocused. Desperate, Draco groped around the floor in search of something to beat the man back with. He grabbed the leg of the chair beside him and pulled it down, knocking Harry off balance when it hit him on the head. The ex-Slytherin reacted violently, tightening up on that handful of jet-black hair we was holding. He brutally wrenched Harry’s head back and threw his weight forward. He looked into those milky eyes, seeing them vacant. He realised there was something controlling these vicious actions other than Harry's desire to see Malfoy bleed out.

For a moment, Harry froze at the immense pain the blond had delivered to his scalp. He sat stunned, with his eyes searching around for a reason as to why he was laying on the floor.

“Severus!” shouted Draco, taking full advantage of the temporary pause. He pulled his knees up between them and pushed up off the floor, flipping Harry onto his back. “ _SNAPE!_ ”

Gaining some leverage by straddling him, Draco grabbed Harry’s hands, pinned his wrists together and held them down against his chest. The former Gryffindor snarled and bucked beneath him. He went wild, snapping his teeth at him while hissing a string of vulgarities at him in Parseltongue. At last, the door swung open and hit the wall. Snape ran into the room in a panic.

He dropped to his knees beside them. “You have to stop touching him; he can not help himself if your skin makes contact with his skin. When I tell you to, get up and back away. I’ll handle the rest.” He pulled a pair of gloves out of his pocket and put them on. Carefully, he situated Harry’s shirt over his torso and slipped his hands above Draco's, grasping Harry's wrists. “Okay, get up.”

Draco shoved himself up and fell on his back. Snape pulled Harry up into his embrace and held onto him with all of his might. The fierceness instantly softened, turning into nothing more than heavy panting. “It’s over,” Severus whispered, wiping the damp strands of hair from the young man's face. “Just relax now, breathe. It’s all over.”

Harry slumped in place, sneering. He wiped a line of blood on his chin while he tongued at the gash he'd been given on his bottom lip. “Oh bloody hell,” he groaned, pulling himself free. “I need a minute. Give me a minute.” Without looking back, he left the room.

“What. The. _Fuck!?_ ” Draco screamed at Snape. He straightened out his torn shirt as best he could before giving up and crossing his trembling arms over his chest. “Was someone planning on telling me about this small problem anytime soon?”

Severus removed his gloves and held the door open for the man. “That was going to be discussed when the time was right.”

The sound of a slamming door startled them both. Draco’s eyes narrowed at the former potions master. He gripped his wand and yanked it out of his pocket. He shook it angrily. “He punched me in the face! He’s not going to just walk away without explaining himself!”

"We can continue this tomorrow." Severus Snape glanced between the man and his wand. A small smirk curled his lips. He pointed through the doorway. “I think you should go. It's for the best, really. You’ve overstayed your welcome. Bye-bye, Mr Malfoy.”

Draco snorted in disgust. “I’m not leaving -I just got here!” He pushed past Severus, knocking him off-kilter. “Harry Potter, you come back here right this instant! Don’t fucking walk away from me!”

“You can talk to me from out there!” Harry yelled through his bedroom door.

Unnerved, Draco jabbed his wand into the keyhole. “ _Alohomora!_ ” Throwing his side against the door, he shoved it open will all of his weight.

Harry was standing in the middle of the room with his arms to his sides, completely unarmed. "What part of 'out there' do you not get?"

“Aha! As if I'd listen to anything you had to say. I'd love to see you try that shit again when I'm ready for it. Or maybe it's my turn to deck you. What are you gonna do about it? You don't have a wand,” the blond chided, inching closer to the ex-Gryffindor.

Harry sneered, but took a protective step backwards. “I don’t need a wand, Malfoy.”

Draco stopped cold, but noted the guarded characteristics of Harry’s posture. Shoving his wand into his pocket, he held his hands up in truce and stepped back. “All right, let’s talk.”

“You stay over there,” ordered Harry.

“No problem.”

“I was going to tell you before we got interrupted...by you. This is something I’ve had to endure for nearly ten years,” he said, resting down on the side of his bed. “It was the first of three curses Lord Voldemort put on me. I can’t touch anyone. I’ve never touched my son with my bare hands. I can’t risk killing him.”

Draco cocked his head in confusion. “Why would he curse you to hurt people?”

Harry sighed. “That’s personal.” His light eyes grew dark. As hard as it was to say, he knew it needed to be said. “Oh, to hell with it. I'll tell you this one thing. I suppose you deserve to know it.” He pulled his legs up to his chest to hug them. Although his posture appeared defencive, Harry's expression showed a bravery Draco could never have mustered. “Lord Voldemort was every bit the villain he portrayed himself as. It wasn’t enough to hurt me, or humiliate me, or to force himself on me whenever he felt like it, he enjoyed it all the more when I fought back. He loved a good fight, and he loved to win. And I did give him this, I always fought back...until I just couldn't anymore. After about a year of that nightmare I just wasn’t able to find that fight in me no matter what he did to stir things up. Even torturing Hermione or Ron or whoever, I just lost the will to live.”

Draco backed up unconsciously. “I had no idea…I would have never barged in here. I’m so sorry, Potter.”

Harry stood back up, looking fierce. “No, don’t be sorry and don’t pity me. Fix it.” He crossed his arms, looking deadly serious. “That’s what I want from you. I want to be able to touch people again. I want to hold my son and give him the affection he is dying to have before it’s too late. You fix this.”

Again, Draco backed up another step. He stammered, “Remove a cccurse? I--I can’t promise you I can find an antidote before my time is up! I’ve only got a year. I’m desperate-”

"Shut up, let me finish," Harry spit to cut him off. “I’ll give you what you want first, but I expect results in return. You're going to do whatever it takes: all your money, your father’s influence, every fucking thing that your family has claim to, your entire livelihood will be devoted to this. I want an Unbreakable Vow from you. My curse lifted in exchange for your heir.”

Draco nodded. “Yes, of course…Yes, I’ll do it.” 


	2. Strictly Business

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry admits to knowing a temporary counter-curse for his affliction, allowing Draco to take advantage.

Cissy clung to her grandfather’s leg as they walked to the parlour to greet Draco. Lucius frowned, spotting the shreds of clothing hanging off of his son. “What happened to you?”

“Yeah, that,” Draco mumbled, throwing his hands up in the air, “I sort of got attacked. But it’s okay, it was my fault.”

“Ooh.” The elder Malfoy detatched Cissy from his person and rubbed his hands together. There was a sparkle in his eye that Draco hadn’t seen since before he went to Azkaban. “So Potter attacked you when you asked him? Does this mean we enact plan B?”

Draco shook his head with a huge grin plastered on his face. “No, no, you senile honeybadger, Potter’s agreed to do it.” He grabbed his daughter up and twirled her around. “Cissy and daddy are going to move in with little Marvolo. How would you like that?”

“Yes, yes!” she cried.

“The spawn lives there, too?” Lucius huffed. “Oh, no, no, no...You are not taking that child and moving in with them!”

“Yes I am!” Draco chimed back, feeling dizzy. He set the girl down and patted her bottom as she ran off to tell the nanny the good news. “I have to. It’s part of the deal. I have to protect my investment, and I can’t keep popping in without someone finally taking notice.” And there was that matter of an Unbreakable Vow that he neglected to mention.

“Why can’t he come here?”

Draco darted off to the kitchen. “I’m starving. We can talk later.”

“It’s my investment too!” said Lucius on his heels. “This place is impenetrable, why can’t he just do his thing here?”

“His sheng?” said Draco through a mouthful of biscuit. “He’sh hardly trushting.”

“But he’s agreed to do it? Did you shake on it?” Lucius asked him.

Draco swallowed the biscuit and reached for a glass of pumpkin juice, hoping that question would not have come up. “Hmm. Yep, sure,” he said, taking a sip of his drink. He set his glass down and smiled at his father. “It’s all settled. The baby goes to me and he’ll magically sign all the documents stating he is the moth...er, umm, the other parent.”

Lucius cocked an eyebrow at his son. “And what if the child is a girl?”

“It won’t be. Unlike my former wife, Potter can only produce males, or so he believes,” said Draco. He shuddered, hoping Harry wasn’t capable of carrying twins or triplets as the harpy had during every single pregnancy except the last. “Lord Voldemort wanted his own male heir or something. He wanted it to be a boy. He planned on making little Marvolo another little Dark Lord or something. I don’t know, Potter was pretty evasive about the subject. That’s what I’ve pieced together myself.”

“Oh Merlin. So, when will you and he be procreating?” Lucius added a snooty tinge to his voice to sharpen the jab.

“Well, there’s just one teeny-tiny little problem,” the younger Malfoy replied in a hushed voice. “The Dark Lord didn’t like the idea of other people touching his things. I’m not able to get close enough to Potter to actually conceive it.”

* * *

Harry stood on the edge of the stoop with a gloved hand holding his child’s, pointing into the street as Draco and his daughter apparated in. “There they are!” he said, waving to them. “Isn’t this exciting?”

“Cissy!” Marvolo called out, grinning and quivering with tingles. He had never had a playmate before and he certainly liked this little girl. He was overcome with joy to hear she would be living with them. Her father, on the other hand…“Why is he coming?”

“Oh,” Harry said, blushing. “Well, you know, Marvolo...he’s...my friend and I’ve asked him to stay with us here too.”

Marvolo peered up at his father as Draco walked up the path. His eyes narrowed and his lips tightened. “Don’t lie to me! You don’t like him at all, daddy. Tell the truth.”

Harry winced and pulled the boy behind him as he greeted the Malfoys, seeing Draco pause briefly after overhearing the child's outburst. “Ha, children. They’re great, aren’t they?”

“Right,” said Draco flatly. He shifted Cissy’s weight up on his hip. “So I’ll just umm… go set up our room then.”

“Yeah,” said Harry, feeling his cheeks burning.

Marvolo waved at Cissy as they passed by. Harry yanked him back in front of him as they disappeared behind the door. He knelt down, giving him the firmest look he could muster. “That was foul. Don’t ever talk like that again, it is so unbelievably rude to embarrass other people, especially while they're looking right at me when you do it. Mr Malfoy is here to help us and I don’t want you starting up with that nastiness before you’ve gotten to know him.”

“Nastiness? You mean like towards Ron,” the boy said through a sneer. “He’s not nice to me at all.”

“No, sometimes he’s not. Sometimes Ron can be a real prat. But you haven’t even gotten to know Malfoy yet. I don’t truly hate him, and we have to work together now so I’d be grateful for a little support from you.” He smiled as his boy nodded, ruffling his hair. “Thanks, sweetheart, I appreciate that.”

* * *

The day passed easily enough. Cissy and Marvolo were getting along, only having two disagreements over toys as they played between their fathers in the sitting room. Marvolo, being no slouch, carefully listened to the two men’s cryptic conversation throughout the afternoon. His father was up to something he didn’t like the sound of.

As evening set in, Severus took the children up to their beds, leaving Harry and Draco to continue their chat. “Would you like a drink?” said Harry, thinking about the two bottles of elderflower wine gathering dust in the kitchen cupboard. He stood up and walked to the kitchen.

“Oh Gods, yes, please,” Draco said, hoping he hadn’t made it all too clear that he was dying for one.

Harry returned with two glasses and a popped-open bottle, handing the white-haired man one and taking the other. They drank liberally, and suddenly he found himself back in the cupboard fishing out the second bottle. The warmth of the alcohol began taking its effect, and thankfully so.

Draco had leaned in, deciding to change the subject. “So how are we going to get over this problem with touching? You’re absolutely certain there’s no other way to make the little Malfoy?” He was fairly inebriated himself and wanted desperately to ask the question all evening. "I mean to say...my father said we have to fuck...err, I mean have sex in order to make the baby. Is that right?"

“Er…” Harry shrugged. He downed his glass of wine and poured another. “I guess, yeah. And there is a way I can be touched, but it’s complicated. There is a temporary counter-curse that's performed in Parseltongue, but I can’t remove it myself. Believe me, I’ve tried. If we never find another living Parselmouth I doubt it'll work. I suppose if I had a calming potion or something…it might help, but I’m not sure.”

“I could knock you out.” Draco made a bopping motion with his hand as if he were holding a club. He grinned, letting his eyes light up as he waited for Harry's reaction.

Harry was not amused.

Draco dropped the grin. “Or not. So, a calming potion, you say? Will it work?” 

“I have no idea. I’ve only take one after an accident. It seemed to curb the need to lash out, but then again so does simply breaking skin contact,” Harry relayed between sips of his wine. He wiped a line of sweat forming on his brow as his blood heated up. “Is it hot in here?”

“A bit,” said Draco. He wasn’t sure what had heated up his blood more; the wine or watching Harry. Potter was undeniably attractive, but he had always known that. It just never occurred to him that he and the Golden Boy would ever be anything more than rivals. He loosened his tie and unbuttoned the top button of his shirt, feeling the heat of lust warm his blood. “Do you have any here?”

“Yeah, Severus keeps some on hand in case we need them,” said Harry, pointing to a door in the back room that was slightly visible from where they were sitting. “That’s his potion stores. It’s got everything. We brew during the week when Marvolo can be kept occupied with something. He’s actually-” He stopped, watching Draco set his glass down and walk out of the room towards the cabinet. A strong wave of tense juddering developed in his hands, seeing Draco run his finger over the labels. They were going to try it, tonight, it seemed. Harry hadn’t thought it would begin so quickly. He finished his glass of wine and hastily poured another, emptying the second bottle. Suddenly, as he swallowed a large sip, Draco was next to him.

The handsome blond held out a phial in front of him. Harry took it without looking up.

“I think we should test it out. Who knows, maybe it’ll work well enough to give it a shot.”

“Oh, right. Good idea,” said Harry, as casually as he could manage. He uncorked the bottle and tipped it back. Before the last drop touched his lips, the sweet sensation of ease began spreading throughout his body. The bottle fell in his lap, slipping from his fingers.

“How long does it take to- Oh, I see,” said Draco, watching the man in the easy chair slump forward into heavenly bliss.

"Oh yeah, that's nice," Harry mumbled. He began giggle. He cupped a hand over his mouth to quiet himself, not wanting Draco to know how nervous he really was.

Feeling rather pissed himself, Draco stepped in front of him and knelt down, parting his legs open to fit between them. "Yeah, it's real nice. You feel good?"

Harry snorted. "I guess, yeah."

Gazing at the silly smile of the extremely uncomfortable Boy-Who-Lived, Draco licked his dry lips in anticipation. “Are you ready? I’m going to try to touch you. If you can handle it, I’m going to kiss you.” His soft words were like satin in Harry’s ears, billowing in the breezy splendour of intoxication.

“Kiss? Oh, okay,” Harry murmured, and took his glasses off. He watched the man in front of him reach out and stop, letting his fingers ghost his cheek. And then they touched, and a powerful surge of electrical energy rushed through his blood. Harry drew in a sharp breath as ferocity swelled within him. His muscles seized up, crushing the spectacles in the palm of his hand.

Draco yanked them out of his grip and tossed them across the room. “You’re doing fine. Just lean back, relax,” he whispered, climbing into the overstuffed chair to straddle him. He grabbed Harry's wrists and pressed his lips against his, claiming the savagery of the moment and muffling Potter's sudden protests. He held him down in the chair while he whispered into his mouth with the softest of words, “Its okay. I think its working.”

“No!” Harry cried back, turning away. He trembled beneath him, wanting so badly to tear his flesh apart. “I can’t control it anymore. It’s definitely not working - get off.”

Draco sat back, but did not get up right away. “There’s got to be something we’re missing,” he said. “You haven’t tried to have sex with anyone since the war?”

Harry gaped at him and shook his head. “No, course not. I’ve been here since our escape.”

At risk of being too forward, Draco tried to choose his words as carefully as possible through the haze of wine. “Mind me asking you how…you and he got around to doing it? He must have had a special way, right?”

“Yes, I do mind. I’m not telling you that.” Harry felt a blush rising in his face. He grasped the arms of the chair and sat up aggressively, startling Draco into backing off. “I’m going to bed.”

“Sure, Potter.” Draco stood back and watched him stumble away. He sucked at his bottom lip, tasting the lingering impression of The-Boy-Who-Lived on his tongue.

* * *

Harry woke with a start. He sat up as the sounds of screaming filled the room. Shaking off the terrible headache, he leapt from his bed and dashed out into the hall. Narcissa and Marvolo looked up from their game with startled expressions. “What’s going on? I heard shouting!”

Marvolo cringed. He wrapped an arm around Cissy's waist and yanked her up against him. “We're sorry, daddy, we didn't mean to get out of hand. We’ll be quiet.” Cissy blinked up at the tall man through a pout. She hugged Marvolo around the neck to comfort him.

“Oh,” Harry said, exhaling a deep breath, “No, that’s fine. I like that you're getting on. I just thought someone might have gotten hurt. Have you eaten?”

Both children nodded and returned their attention back to their game of Exploding Snap.

Severus entered the hall and narrowed his eyes. “I think you’ve forgotten something,” he said, stepping between Harry and Marvolo.

Draco watched them through the crack of his door. As Harry had said before, there were no visible scars on him. His skin was pale, his legs long and lean. He closed his door and sat down on his bed. He needed outside help; someone who knew everything and everyone. Grabbing a piece of parchment and a quill, he set to work.

Harry looked down at his body, realising he was standing in front of the children in his skivvies. He backed up, retreating into his room before anything could touch him. “Yes, yes, I’ll be right back!” he called out, responding to his son’s insistence to watch their game. With haste, he threw on his clothes and walked back into the hall at the exact moment of impact. Narcissa’s cards plumed out in a cloud of smoke and spark.

“I win again,” said Marvolo impassively. “As I always do. So boring, really; always being better.”

It was this side of his son that irked Harry. Normally, Marvolo was kind, but there were times it almost seemed glazed and pasted on. It was something he wished to curb, this side of the boy's true father. “I don’t think that was a very nice thing to say, Marvolo. Perhaps you should let Cissy win a round or two. She’s only just turned three.”

"I didn't mean to say that." Marvolo looked down at his toes with shame. “I’m sorry, Cissy. You can win next one.”

“Gunna frow cards,” Cissy informed Harry, smiling up at him while twisting a finger around in her baby-fine white hair. She held her cards up, waiting on Marvolo’s orders to begin tossing them.

“You are just too adorable.” Harry sat down beside them and pulled his knees up into his chest. “All right, deal me in. Let’s see how quickly you two can beat me.” He unfolded his gloves and slipped them on.

Lighting up like a Christmas tree, Marvolo clumsily shuffled the cards.

Draco entered the hallway and quickly concealed the list he’d written behind his back. “Oh, having fun?” he asked them, as three sets of eyes rose upward and locked onto him. “I’d love to join but I’ve got some research to do." He centred on the oldest player. "Can we talk about you-know-what again soon?”

Harry shrugged. “I suppose.”

“Great!” Draco bent down and kissed the top of Narcissa’s head as he passed by. He stopped on the steps and turned back. A slinky air graced his sharp features. “I’ll be back tonight, and I'll bring wine...loads of it. Will you be in your room?”

Harry looked down at the cards that were dealt out to him and nodded. "I'll see you then." Malfoys were persistent if nothing else.

* * *

Lucius sat under a stack of heavy books, poring over the indexes of each and every one of them. Draco, up on the tallest ladder at the top of a shelf, looked down and tossed several volumes in his direction. “Heads up!”

With a flick of his wand, the books landed harmlessly on the floor by his chair. Frustrated, the elder Malfoy kicked a stack of parchment on the floor. “How am I supposed to find a counter-spell for a curse that doesn’t exist?”

“It exists. You’ve found nothing even close? Maybe we don’t have the books on it,” said Draco.

“I have everything.This particular magic is either something ancient or something new.” He looked up at his son, hoping the spark of understanding would twinkle. After a minute, he looked back down and sighed. “Have I taught you nothing?”

Draco climbed down the ladder and scratched his head. “What are you asking?”

“Firstly, have you contemplated everything you can think of before dragging me away from my manuscript? Have you tried stunning him? Perhaps when he wasn’t looking?”

“Ah, yes,” said Draco, “when he’s not looking. Then just take what I want, right? I can’t wait to get back and test that. Thank you, daddy. What would I do without you?”

Lucius sneered. “There’s no need to be crass. I’m merely suggesting going over all possibilities before delving deeper into these books. For instance, if Voldemort created the curse, when did he set aside the time to do it? This specific spell to create life between two men has never been mentioned in any of the history books I've gone over, meaning it was most likely invented specifically to use on Potter. The Dark Lord had no time to put into research anymore; he was much too busy destroying the world.”

“Okay,” said Draco. The ol’ stun trick was sounding better and better.

“Think, boy,” chided Lucius, tapping the end of his wand to his temple. “Where would he have gotten this curse? If it sounds like it was designed for Potter, doesn’t that mean someone else who worked for Voldemort created it for him?”

At that moment, Draco finally lit up. “Yes! He’d have to have someone else create it for him!”

“That’s my boy. Now, as most of the Death Eaters and medical staff who worked under him are either dead or in hiding, what do we do about that?”

Draco threw his hands up. “We find the ones who are alive and not in hiding? I don’t have that kind of time! Even if I do manage to get him in the sack once, it might not take. He has no idea how the curse works, father.”

“I know they tested it on another wizard before cursing Potter with it. They tested everything thoroughly before they used anything on him. Unfortunately, the one they used that was successfully tested on with the untouchable and baby-making curses was killed before my return. They kept Potter out of sight. I couldn’t tell you how they countered them. I know of two curses he has; the untouchable curse and the one that allows him to create life. There was a third curse Harry possessed, I believe. I know someone who was there the whole time and privy to information that was withheld from me. I will seek them out.”

Draco nodded. “He did mention he had three curses, but the subject came up at a very awkward time. He said Lord Voldemort put the untouchable curse on him to…ugh, it’s awful. He’s not very forthcoming about talking about it and I don’t blame him. There’s one thing that keeps creeping back in my mind, though. How could someone so willowy and spirit-like as Voldemort was physically fight him off long enough to…you know…sex?”

Lucius nodded. “I’m sure Potter knows how to counter it. Give him a little time to get more comfortable with you. He’ll have to explain it better at some point if it might interfere with the reproduction."

"He said there was a counter-curse but it needed to be spoken by a Parselmouth," Draco revealed.

"Spoken by one, or spoken by someone who can mimic one?" Lucius countered. "Perhaps you can turn to the other adult in the house, I would look closer at Snape. I’ve heard that Harry is quite dependent on him. I’ll get with my contact but in the meantime, get some of these books together and figure out something to subdue him enough to plant that seed! You’ve got three months, boy!”

Squirming in distaste, Draco looked away from his father. “Yeah, thanks for reminding me.”

* * *

Going over the list of things he’d written down, Draco walked into the house as silently as possible. All of the lights had been dimmed and a noticeable quiet filled his ears. “Let’s see… Full body bind, the Imperious curse, a simple repairing charm, stunning… thanks, father. There are so many options here that will definitely offend him. But I have no choice.”

“You’re back.” Harry was standing on the landing of the stairs. “Find what you need?”

Draco shoved the list in his pocket. He climbed the steps slowly, fingering the wand in his pocket. He watched Harry step back in careful distance, nearly laughing in madness to himself over what he was about to do. “Where’s Severus?” he said, looking around the dark hallway. All of the doors were closed except Harry’s.

“He’s in bed. He gets up early with Marvolo and gives him his breakfast and bath, seeing as I can’t do that for my own child. Why? You need to talk to him?”

“No. I was just wondering if we were alone. Potter,” he said, watching the green-eyed man look back at him with blind trust.

Harry frowned as he looked the man over. His hands were empty. He was really looking forward to drinking his worries away. "You didn't bring wine?"

"I'm sorry, forgot," Draco replied, looking just as dejected. “You should know, Potter, tomorrow is my birthday. I’ll be twenty-nine.”

Harry grimaced. “So soon? We’ll have to work out some… way…” His eyes lowered briefly, seeing Draco’s wand pointed directly at him. He looked up at the blond with shock. “Oh no, that won’t-”

“ _Stupefy!_ ”

Barraged by blinding red light, Harry wilted in the spot he was standing.

Draco heaved in large amounts of oxygen as Harry dropped to the floor. He knelt down, covering his own mouth to absorb the ragged wingeing he was unable to contain. Slowly, he reached out and touched the unconscious man’s hand. It was brief, but Harry didn’t move. He grabbed it and held on as his breathing returned to normal, gaining the same results.

Again, he looked around the hall to be sure they were alone. It was agony. He had already breached the trust given to him through a vow in less than two days. If there were any other way around it that he could think of he would have tried it. But time was ticking, Cissy’s future sat hard in his mind.

Harry groaned, sending Draco into a panic as he dragged him back to his bedroom. “That’s impossible - I haven’t removed the spell,” he said dazedly.

* * *

“Please try not to judge me too harshly, Potter. I was desperate, wasn't thinking right.”

Harry reached up touch the large lump forming above his right ear - but it was gone. His poor vision strained to focus on the man beside him. Soft strands of silvery hair cascaded over his shoulders, giving this form a name. “Malfoy?” He looked down at his own body and cringed. There was nothing but a sheet separating them from disaster.

Draco refused to look up. He slumped on the side of the bed clasping his hands. “I’m not going to stun you again…Done it ten times now, it isn’t working. Nothing works. Not even an Unforgivable. How is that possible?”

Harry grabbed the sheet up and slid over to the opposite side of the bed. “Do you know how dangerous this is?”

Nodding, Draco slumped forward in defeat. “Yeah, I don’t know what came over me.”

“You didn’t…No, you didn’t. Of course not.” Harry pulled his knees up, hugging them. Feeling nothing more than wooziness, he was comfortable in believing that nothing had happened.

"Don't give me too much credit." Draco sat up more stiffly feeling more than a bit criminal after thinking about what transpired. “I wouldn’t say it didn’t cross my mind. It crossed it enough to undress you. And you’re really gorgeous, by the way, nothing at all to be ashamed of-I really shouldn't have just said that. Blimey, Potter, I’m really sorry.”

“Yes, so bloody gorgeous, just the way _he_ liked me.” There was an extensive pause before Harry found the reserve to look back at him. He was not upset; he felt a stab of pity for the poor man so desperate to save the life of his child. He patted the mattress to regain Malfoy's attention. “I would have told you that stunning doesn’t work. Snape and I have tried everything. If only he could speak Parseltongue. Sadly, his northern drawl prevents him from hissing well enough to enunciate the word. Ron can’t do it either, although he’s so close…Hermione thinks if I use it it’ll somehow corrupt the curse, strengthening it. It would be nice if someone other than me- You!" His eyes widened and his mouth dropped open at the idea of having a new warm body to practice this incantation with. "Yes, you’ve got a very nice dialect. I’ll bet…”

Draco shifted around on the bed to look at him. “What?”

“Give me your wand,” Harry said, holding his hand out.

Raising an eyebrow, Draco reached into his pocket and handed the wand over. “I thought you didn’t need a wand.”

“For specific curses only.” Harry smiled. “All wizards need wands for most spells. I want to show you something.” He sat upright against the bedstead and held the wand gracefully in his hand. He hadn't held a wand in a long time. Although, still needing one himself, it was true that neither Snape nor he was allowed to possess one anymore, as per part of the condition they remain hidden from public life until the world healed up. The energy from the connection bowed in electric blue strands that passed through his fingers and grounded him to the wand. He sighed at the feeling; it akin to being wrapped up in a warm blanket of a cold cold night. “Okay, watch me closely, Malfoy. Hold it like this, swish it back until it points due east. You’re going to have to listen to the incantation very closely until you can enunciate it exactly as it sounds.” Reluctantly, he handed it back to the blond.

Draco held the wand awkwardly between his fingers. “What is this?” he asked, craning to listen to the soft hissing sound of the word Harry was attempting to teach him.

“This is the counter-spell for my curse,” Harry said quietly. “It only lasts a set amount of time, but if you want to…I mean, you know…if we're going to do this we're going to have to have sex.” The word passed his lips with a chill. He blushed and broke eye-contact.

Draco also felt a warmth colour his cheeks when he said it. Sex. Oh yes, that was the plan. They’d be having sex alright. The word itself meant very little to him. It was something you did when you were piss-drunk in an alley. It was exciting and rejuvenating - never disagreeable or bitter. And this was business. His business included having sex with Potter to trigger the curse. “Yeah, course I want to.”

Harry choked out a small uncomfortable laugh. “All right then, hold up your arm. It helps to concentrate on looking at a snake when trying to say it perfectly. That's the part Ron has problems with, it being the symbol of Voldemort and his inner hatred for him or anything involving the camps.” He pointed lazily at the faded reddish tattoo brandished on the inside of Draco’s exposed forearm. It was a shrill reminder of their past burned into the flesh, never to disappear unless the final Horcrux was destroyed. The moment he concentrated on it, Harry began to hiss the sound with a tone much sharper than a moment before, repeating it in a language that was quite foreign to the former Slytherin.

The sound was like a lullaby in Draco’s ears. He gazed at Harry as he whispered the sounds so closely to his lips, creating the most delicious shiver ever to run down his spine. "That's so beautiful," he murmured, unaware he had said it out loud.

"Oh yeah?" Harry retorted, "Imagine Lord Voldemort standing over you while throwing his robes off as he says it to you."

Draco gasped with instant regret. "Oh, Potter, I'm sorry, I-"

"No, no, I was just joking," Harry replied, cutting him off. "I'm sorry; I shouldn't have said that. It's...bad humour. Sev's always telling me to put a sock in it when I do it...Really, I shouldn't have said that."

Shrugging, Draco returned to studying the short series of hisses Harry was saying. "What is it? What's it mean?"

“In simple terms it means ‘weak’ in Parseltongue. Try and say it.” Harry’s demeanour lightened considerably. His almost playful responses to him brought back thoughts of ‘sex’. Maybe Harry had never had sex as a willing participant before. He looked bashful, giddy, his hands were trembling. Maybe Harry had never had sex for enjoyment before. That would change.

Draco knelt in front of him, watching his actions, mimicking his words. He could smell the vanilla in Harry's shampoo clouding his thoughts. He focused on the hissing, only the hissing Harry was teaching him with his full bow-shaped lips and his bright pink tongue. And Harry, so trusting even after a decade of unspeakable acts done to him, sat there with his eyes closed and a silly smile perched on his face. But these details were merely a bonus to the job needing to be performed. This was only business.

They practised the charm together for several minutes until Harry lowered his head and smiled. “You’ve got it.”

Draco pulled Harry’s sheet up and tucked it under his chin. “Lay back.” Slowly, he nudged him down, pinning him beneath him. With a flick of his wrist and the soft slur of his tongue, a brilliant white light passed between them.

Harry fell back into his pillow, sighing with contentment. “Yes, it worked.”

This was business, Draco told himself again. Harry was never an object of his desire in school, and rarely had he crossed his mind after. If ever his name was brought up in conversation it had always triggered a sure-fire roll of the eyes. But here he was, lying beneath him. And he was so beautiful, simply radiating with innocence. This was only business.

With a swift dart of his tongue, Draco brushed an upwards sweep over Harry’s mouth. Yes, the spell had worked – but the impression was small. Harry’s soft lips remained closed, he did nothing in return. And it hurt, it was an insult not to react to his advance. He grunted, dropped his body weight down upon Harry and allowed his lip to curl up on one side. “Potter, you gotta do something too. Kiss me back,” he demanded, whispering against his mouth. “It's a part of this job. It’ll help you relax, not to mention I sort of need to be turned on in order to…you know.”

Harry's eyes fluttered open to look up at the blond. He nibbled on his bottom lip as the words sunk in. _Yes, kiss Malfoy._ “Yeah, sorry...I was uhh, I was thinking about something.”

"Try to think about _this,_ " Draco suggested, righting his head to face him. "Just stare at my gorgeous face while I get things going."

"Yeah, whatever. Let's do this." Harry took a deep breath. It was very nice feeling warm skin pressed against his. The lingering contact, even Draco Malfoy’s, was nothing short of incredible. He could push that out of his head and relish in the forgotten sensation of close human contact. “Okay, then. I’m ready, I guess. Here goes.” With a shivering inhale, he tipped his chin up and let Draco kiss him. The tenderness crawled over him, blanketing him with tangible ecstasy. A longer, punctuated gasp filled his lungs at the stimulating connection.

“Yeah, it’s good, eh?” Taking full advantage of this naive reflex, Draco wove his fingers through the back of his hair, crushing their lips together to invade his mouth. He was very fond of suppressing, dominating kisses. Harry shifted uncomfortably beneath him. His evident uneasiness resonated between them, driving Draco to taunt him with his teeth. He nibbled at his bottom lip, soft then harder, testing his limits. He bit down, snagging it between his incisors.

Harry yelped and covered his mouth with his hand. “What the hell, Malfoy?”

“Shh, shut up.” Long fingers began to roam over Harry’s body, gripping and tugging in the right spots to coax his thighs apart. Draco yanked the sheet between them away, adjusting his weight over to pull it free. He dropped it on the floor like tossing garbage away, erased from his mind the instant it left his hand.

Harry, on the other hand, shifted over a bit to see if he could grab it back up. Finding himself unable to reach out, he pressed his palms flat to Draco’s chest as the blond leaned in again to stuff his tongue back in his mouth. “I could really use, um that sheet...or maybe a drink or something.” He shoved back as Draco leaned in more forcefully, intent on keeping this union under control. The former Slytherin was pushing this too hard, too fast. “Slow down, fuck face.”

Snorting, Draco caught his wrists and pinned them together in one of his long fingered hands while shaking his head. “No and no, Potter. I’ll do everything. You just lay there like you already are; like a corpse doing nothing to help this situation. And try and stay quiet, no more whining.” With a knee, he wedged himself between Harry’s thighs and shifted forward. He sat back on his haunches and slipped a middle finger over his tongue, slicking it wet with saliva. He held it up as a rude gesture to his cold fish partner as saliva dripped down the length of it. "Get ready, stud, this is gonna be so hot. I'm like a sex god, or so I've been told."

"Oh yeah, I believe that one hundred percent." Closing his eyes, Harry wished that the stunner curse idea had actually worked. He gritted his teeth, feeling Draco prod carelessly at him with his finger. It was the most unromantic and detached action he could imagine happening in this situation. Draco’s apparent lack of love-making skills sullied the moment. He tried to relax, but it was far too mortifying and painful. “I don’t think I'm prepared to take on this much humiliation yet, Malfoy,” he said in a hushed voice. "I need a drink or I swear to Merlin I'm gonna deck you."

Resting his hands on Harry’s hips, Draco flipped his head back to remove the straggling hair from his eyes. He looked down at the other young man and smirked wickedly. Watching the former Gryffindor floundering beneath him hardened his cock to iron proportions. “You look scared, Potter. If I’m too much man for you I’ll stop,” he chided, looking very much like the boy who used to follow Harry around in school trying to make his life miserable. “I had no idea you were this flaky.”

Harry’s eyes grew wide - he blinked as his mouth hung open for a moment before regaining composure. He scoffed heatedly. “Did you just fucking call me 'flaky'?” he snapped, feeling a rush of stored arrogance overriding any embarrassment. “You can't expect me to relax and enjoy what you're doing when you're so horrible at it. Get it over with before the counter spell wears off and I unintentionally murder you...or intentionally, whatever comes first.” This meant war.

Giving him no more chances, Draco spit on his middle finger and forced it inside Harry. He pressed him into the bed, holding him down as he finished preparing him. Harry seethed beneath him, screwing his eyes up, gritting his teeth. Draco gripped his hips and eased forth. His slow, provocative efforts were met with little resistance. He leaned down over Harry, cupping his neck and buried his face in his shoulder, nipping at the taut flesh with all of the passion of a dead fish. Once the niceties were aside, he began to grind into him. All business.

Then it happened; something Draco had not expected. Harry’s arms encircled him in response, meeting his half-hearted shagging with scintillating elegance. Harry dug the tips of his fingers into his back to slow the monotonous humping. He was looking at him dead in the eye before yanking his head closer. “I’m not a dog,” he hissed against his neck, “Don’t fuck me like one.”

“Ha, I’ll try,” Draco replied. He hadn’t wanted to make this personal. Fucking Harry Potter was a necessity and that was all. But the softness of the lips that touched his neck, of the feather-soft hands still clutching his back fuelled his testosterone-addled mind. It was a touch that sank in through his flesh, a touch no one else bothered to give him before. This was slightly more than business now. There was a spark of egotism that slowly took hold. Draco found this act alone turning him on way more than he figured it would.

Harry was trying very hard to control this situation despite being fucked up the arse by an old enemy. There was no way in hell Draco was going to allow that to happen. He shoved Harry back against the mattress and jammed his hand between them. “You’re not even hard. Start thinking of something that turns you on, I'm gonna make you come.”

“No, I don’t need you to do that. Just finish up,” Harry protested. It was undeniable though, the moment the ex-Slytherin’s ministrations took hold of him it started feeling amazing. He did not push his hand away even if he was still trying to take control of this situation.

“That’s not what I want to hear, Potter. I’m doing my part - you do yours,” Draco ordered in a low, husky voice, stabbing him fully, clutching and fondling his scrotum until Harry struggled for breath. He hovered over him with gritted teeth, bracing himself up on one arm while he brought the ex-Gryffindor to hardness. “I know you think you’re better than me and that you don't need this. But that's not what your dick's telling me, scarhead. Just relax and enjoy what I'm giving to you.” He reached out and grabbed his hair, forcing his head up. He growled and went in for another kiss.

Harry fought to stay calm. His head lolled to his shoulder, allowing Draco to suck on his neck. That lasted maybe three seconds. “We don’t need to kiss.” He was kissed again.

Every attempt at retaking control was instantly countered through more rough mouth-smashing, hair pulling and being shoved back against the mattress. Draco was jerking him off between bouts of snippy holdings down, smacking his hands away, shoving them behind his back in order to complete this ever growing daunting task. “You just can’t fucking sit still, can you? You’re like a child.”

“For Merlin’s sake don’t talk anymore," Harry snapped back. It was overwhelming and undeniable, the stirring arousal that built so steadily within Harry felt fucking amazing. He could not remember ever experiencing something so wonderful radiating throughout his body before. Despite fighting back against him, Draco Malfoy was really good with his hands. Before he knew it Harry sighed with defeat. “Ugh, not too fast...I think I'm gonna…I’m close,” he said sheepishly, resistant to informing Draco of something so personal as conceding to absolute gratification from his rival’s hands.

“Already? Goddamn, Potter,” snickered Draco as he innervated his onslaught. Knowing how badly Harry did not want to come in his presence demanded that he make him do just that. He abandoned his erection for a second to swipe back the white hair plastered on his forehead so he could watch himself bring Harry to climax. Nothing would ever be this rewarding, if only he could have bragged about doing this taboo act to him back in school. The bed thumped against the wall with each tortured buck of their sweat-slicked bodies. Ever the almost-villain, Draco leaned in  close to his face. He needed to see those big green eyes submit to him. “Come on then, big boy, let’s have it.”

“Gods, fine,” Harry said in heated suspire. Not truly surrendering, he pulled a pillow over his face. A hot rush of blood soared through his every vein as his release spread between them. He stayed as quiet as possible while the glorious climax assailed him. He went limp for a moment, lost in the great feeling.

Taking advantage of this, Draco ripped the pillow away from him before he could recover, triumphant. He dug his fingers into Harry’s bony hips, selfishly pounding into him. "Now it's my turn," he breathed. He grabbed Harry's hands up and placed them around his neck. "Kiss my neck, kiss my neck, kiss my neck..." he chanted until Harry leaned upward as he pulled Draco downward to comply.

Harry latched onto his pulsepoint, nipping and licking it until he felt the man on top of him tense up rigid.

Draco's eyes rolled up in his head at the delightful touch coming from the warmth of his lover's mouth, drawing out a series of intense shivers. A strangled sob tore from his throat. He threw his head back, letting his hands fall away as his seed gushed forth. _“Fuck yes!”_ he cried in victory. He shuddered for a long moment, relishing in this delicious win. Completely spent, he dropped down over Harry to recover.

Nothing was said for a moment, sans a single cleaning spell to sop of the excessive inundation. Draco reached out and swept a lock of dark hair out of Harry’s eyes, tucking the end behind his ear. He grinned cheekily and smacked the man’s cheek a couple of times with the tips of his fingers. “That was amazing. Right, thanks for letting me bang you, Potter. When will we find out if I knocked you up?”

“Get out,” Harry growled, pointing to the door.

Draco kept smiling as he backed up and climbed off the bed. He gathered his clothes and walked to the door. “Yeah, just let me know if we need to do this again. I might be up for it. Get it? Up for it! Whatever, night.”

Harry grabbed the pillow and thrust it back over his face, screaming as loudly as he could into it. When he was finished he threw it at the door. “Fucking Malfoy.”

* * *

Harry shook his damp hair out of his eyes and tossed the bath towel on the ground. Throwing on his clothing, pulling his gloves over his hands, he raced out of his room. The hallway was empty. He took the stairs two at a time and hit the ground on both feet, planting himself briefly enough to look around. Finding no one, he pursed his lips and pressed on.

The banging of wood against metal caught his attention as he passed the kitchen. Sliding to a halt as his socks slipped along the cold tiles, Harry turned and dashed into the large facility. Spotting the greasy curtain of black hair over the ledge of the butcher block, Harry leapt on top of it and peered down at the man sitting on the floor.

“Hey, Sev!” he said excitedly, seeing the older man sit cross-legged between his son and Malfoy’s daughter. All three were holding different sized pots with their knees and clutching wooden spoons in their hands.

Severus shot him a wretched glare. “We’re making music.”

“So I see!” He stifled his laughter, hell-bent on finding Draco. “He did it. He recited the spell perfectly last night. Where is he? I want to test it out again on Marvolo.” The idea of holding his son, no matter how small the timeframe was, would not leave his head.

Marvolo stopped his spoon in mid swing and looked up at his father. “What spell?”

Harry slipped off the block and ran his fingers through the boy’s hair. “It’s special. I can’t wait for you to see what daddy can do.”

“He went to the manor again, maybe an hour ago. I thought his moving in here would prevent these numerous interruptions of the wards, but as always when it comes to Malfoys I was mistaken,” said Snape. “One more trip home and I will rearrange the charms. He can stay out.”

Disappointment overcame the plastered smile on Harry’s face. He sat down behind his son, pulling him into his arms. His hand absently groomed the boy’s hair.

“Something you want to tell me?” Snape was staring at him. Cissy rapped on her pot loudly. Having had quite enough of that, he snatched the spoon away from her and threw it across the room. “You haven’t tried to copulate yet, have you?”

"What's copulate?" Marvolo asked them, looking up between both men.

Harry blushed. “Well...I guess we did...last night—be careful, Marvolo!” He pushed the child’s hand away from his exposed wrist and tugged his sleeve down. He stood up abruptly and backed away.

Snape stood as well, ushering the children to return their crude instruments back to the cupboard. “I see. I was hoping you’d wait a while until I worked something out.” Harry turned around but stopped, feeling Severus’s hand catch him by the arm. “Once this takes hold I’m forced by contract to inform the Ministry. You know that.”

“Umbridge can kiss my arse,” Harry replied, ripping his arm back.

“They’ll probably have Mr. Malfoy arrested. You might want to tell him that.” Snape crossed his arms as Harry grabbed a hand of each child and led them off, ignoring the words. The older man’s expression turned grim. “And then they’ll most likely want to terminate your life…”

* * *

Hermione scratched her head. None of this made any sense at all. She ran her finger over the lines, interpreting their legal meanings in her mind. Dropping the parchment on the table, she gave Ron a quick wave to bring him over. Her attention sailed back to the pages as she sifted through them.

“I need to finish my rounds, so make it quick,” said Ron. He tapped the hilt of his broom on the ground, catching the attention of several patrons in the Ministry Hall of Records. He puffed his chest out to brandish his Auror badge.

Sticking a quill behind her ear, Hermione lifted up several pages of text. “He’s broke. They said all of his money would be transferred into a secret account, but there’s no record of this ever taking place. All of the money and items were deposited directly into…” She glanced around the area for a moment before decidedly stuffing the papers into a book. “I’ll tell you later. I have to go.”

“Who’s broke?” said Ron.

Hermione shoved the book into her bag and replaced her chair. “Harry.”

“That’s nonsense. He’s loaded… Look, maybe they don’t put the transfer into public documents for a good reason. There are spies everywhere.” Still, the impression had been planted.

“Perhaps, but these aren’t public records.” She patted her bag and walked out of the room, leaving Ron standing in bewilderment.

* * *

The instant he stumbled through the door, Harry was on top of him.

Draco fell back against the wall, recoiling from the shrill voice so close to his ears. No amount of alcohol could drown it out.

“Where have you been? Do you know how long I’ve been waiting up for you?”

“Get-off!” Draco hissed. He gave Harry a healthy shove backwards and straightened out his tie. “One night in the sack doesn’t make you my wife. I can do whatever I please, shank you very mush.”

Harry rolled his eyes. “Ho ho, very funny. Just do the counter-spell. I’m dying to try this out with Marvolo.”

Draco pondered over that bit of information for a moment until it made sense to him. “Oh, yeah.” Unfortunately, the degree of warmth inside over the night air strengthened his inebriation tenfold. He closed his eyes as the room tilted slightly to the left. “O’boy, need to lie down…” He stepped away from the door and bumped into Harry.

More than slightly miffed, Harry helped him stand up straight. “Do the spell. I’ve waited all day and night.”

Clumsily, Draco fumbled for his wand whileheaving a great sigh. “Blah, blah blah...Nag. Stand back.”

Harry shuffled over to the stairs and closed his eyes. The soft press of his lips turned upward in anticipation.

Draco waved the wand, said something indiscernible, and snorted. “That’s not right. Lemmy’try again.”

Harry’s impish grin flattened. “Are you under the influence of something?”

“Potter, ’m always under some influence, yeah. Tonight, ’m very, very pissssed, passed ‘some’ several hours ago,” Draco related, shoving the wand back into his trousers.

“Can you do it or not?” Harry huffed loudly, waiting for him to respond.

Draco started to fall asleep standing up.

“Hello!?”

“Whoa, there.” Draco held up his hand and began walking toward Harry. He inched forward, sneering. He pushed him aside to climb the stairs. “No, can't do it- not tonight- Shut up.”

Harry landed face-first into the banister. He righted himself quickly and followed the wobbly man up the steps. “You’re not going to even try again? I can’t believe how bloody selfish you are, Malfoy.”

Draco tripped on the last step. Harry froze in place, watching him stumble over into the hallway. He couldn’t bring himself to help, he was far too angry. “I hope your wonderful evening was well worth it. You are an absolute prick.” He turned to enter his room, and added, “And last night’s experiment didn’t take. Sleep on that, you ruddy bastard!”

“What?” Draco rolled over onto his back. “How do you know?”

Harry slammed his door.

“Hey!” Getting to his hands and knees, Draco crawled over to the door. He reached up and turned the knob, finding it unlocked. Staggering to erect himself, he grasped the knob harder. It jerked from his hand. He fell forward into the room at Harry’s feet. He rolled over again, once more onto his back. “So, when’re we trying again?”

Harry kicked him. “Go to bed.”

Draco freed his wand and pointed it at Harry. “C’mon, I promise I’ll follow you around all day so you can hold your boy. Let me fuck you again, sweet cheeks; it’s my birthday.” He waved the wand around, hissing his incantation as Harry cursed and spit back the vilest of words. Within thirty seconds, the piercing beam of white shot out from the wand tip and blinded the former Gryffindor.

Bounding up on his feet with renewed vitality, Draco entered the room and locked the door behind him. He grabbed Harry around the waist as he he recovered, rubbing his stinging eyes. “You know you want to,” the blond whispered against the shell of his ear. He curved himself around him like a snake. “You fucking loved it last night. You came all over me, remember? C’mon, stop struggling, lemme take you to bed, babe.” He clutched on tighter, groping Harry’s crotch as the other man wriggled to free himself.

Harry stretched an arm and thrust his elbow back, catching Draco in the gut. “You wait here,” he said, shoving the blond against the wall. “He’s already asleep. I just want to touch him.”

* * *

“Marvolo?” Leaving the light off, he hesitated for a moment as his son stirred onto his side. The gush of emotion swept over him and a swell of pride pushed him forth. His beautiful boy made a small sound in his throat as he approached. “Hi sweetheart. You remember what I said earlier about a surprise?”

“Daddy?”

Harry sat beside him, his back to the door.

"I do!" Marvolo pulled his duvet up to his neck and smiled a squinty grin. “What’s the surprise?”

Once Harry had dreamed of this; a day where he could hold his child, snuggle with him on the couch or play silly games together, or even tickle him until he squealed. He had wanted so badly to pick him up and kiss his boo-boo’s away for far too long. Snape’s rough drawl prevented him from properly reciting the spell. Hermione wouldn’t even attempt it. Ron couldn’t get over the reason it was created to begin with. Draco, though, Draco was a blessing in a really horrible disguise. He’d thank him for that later.

Brushing the mop of hair away from the boy’s forehead, Harry leaned in and planted his lips on the young skin. But instead of feeling his sweet warmth - there was pain. All too familiar and absolutely agonising, his scar and his lips burned white-hot. It was a memorable nightmare from his past. His boy, with his father's Love Magic flowing through his veins, was fighting Harry off as if he were a threat, or a virus.

Harry cupped his forehead in horror.

Marvolo was screaming and gripping his arm.

Harry threw himself backward the moment his scar exploded under his fingers. Warm blood flowed into his eyes. He knew at that moment what had happened.

Snape ran into the room in a panic. He grabbed Marvolo and cradled him. “What’s wrong? What happened?”

Harry began to cry, something he hadn't done in a long, long time. He looked up at the older man, shaking his head. “Voldemort and me, we cast the killing curse at each other at the exact same moment, you remember?”

“Yes,” Snape said under his breath. With horror he began to understand. “I remember.”

“We couldn’t explain why I could still talk to snakes after Voldemort destroyed the Horcrux inside of me." He pointed at his scar, at the bloody mess one small kiss had created. "He made the final Horcrux when I killed him, with the last sliver of soul he had left. He had prepared Marvolo to be the host because he knew I’d never hurt my own child.”

“Yes, Harry, we assumed this already. What did we not assume?”

Harry laughed out of dismay. “I could hear him casting a spell in his head that wasn't the killing curse first, it must have been the Horcrux spell...Well, it seems that the killing curse also split my soul in two when I cast it, must have counted Voldemort and me as one person. Somehow I've made my own Horcrux or fused one with the monster's, and it’s inside him,” he said, looking at his son. “Now he has both of us in there. Voldemort and me are still connected. We’re going to always be connected, aren’t we?”

Severus lowered his head, sighing. “Relax, we’ll figure this out. We’ll find a way to remove them.”

Harry hugged his knees, unconvinced. “He’s going to get him, I know it. He’s going to do exactly what he told us he would do. He's gonna come back.”

Snape shook his head. “We won’t let that happen. We’ll work harder. We’ll make Draco and his idiot father help us.”

"Oh Gods..." Harry dropped his head over his knees. “That means I’ll have to tell them. Everything. I’ll have to tell them about…about _Neville_.”

　

　


	3. Scared, Potter?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Snape knows why the two former rivals can't seal the deal. He's not telling them something in fear they'll have nowhere to go once the Ministry finds out. He makes a deal with Draco's father for a place to go in trust, but Malfoys always get their way...

A dazzling beam of light angled in through the bedroom window. Dawn had come and Draco groaned out like an Inferius. He pushed himself up onto his elbows and broke the tendril of drool connecting him to the puddle on the wooden floor. “Ah, yeah, this is lovely.” Finding himself in the last spot he had remembered standing the night before, he realised he had probably passed out. He’d woken up in worse places before, wearing a lot less clothing and a lot more fluids, but this was by far the most humiliating.

Harry slid his glasses up the bridge of his nose. He fluffed his pillow and sunk his head back down, watching the hung-over blond adjust his clothing.

“Did I lie here all night?”

Harry nodded. “Mhmm.”

“Did we at least shag first?”

 He shook his head. “Nope.”

"Stop judging me." Swiping his sleeve across the sticky blob of saliva, Draco stood up and carded his fingers through his hair. “Right, so I’m off to shower then.” He looked at Harry, tossing him a wink. “Care to join me?”

Harry made a face. “Yeah, I’ll be right there, sugar pie…Hold your breath.”

Draco flashed him a rude gesture as he passed by the bed and entered the bathroom. Harry touched his scar. He jumped out of bed and ran to the mirror over the vanity. The wound was merely a simple, lightning-bolt shaped scar once more.

* * *

Lucius stood up as the owl-mail arrived. He waved his hand at the scribbling Quick Quotes Quill. “That’ll be all for now.” Eagerly, he began detaching the letters from the three owls resting on the perch, hoping one of them brought the good news he was waiting on. “An invitation to ‘Avery’s Underground Birthday Bash’. No thanks. Bellatrix says I still owe her ten thousand Galleons for sleeping with Snape’s Secret Keeper. Mhmm, I’ll get right on that.” He tossed those two letters behind him. A house-elf appeared immediately and gathered up the parchment for proper disposal.

“Ah! Here we are.” Lucius ripped the final letter open and unfolded it with trembling fingers. “What?!” he cried, reading over the words. He ran to the fireplace and grabbed up the vase resting on the mantle. With a handful of floo powder, he flung it over the cold ash and bellowed, “Severus Snape!”

Green flames rose up, licking the hearthstone as the greasy curtain of hair began to emerge from within. Snape looked over his former friend with clear disdain. He made a grumpy noise in his throat. “This network is not secure. I certainly hope you plan on making our chitchat _dreadfully_ brief.”

Lucius refrained from sneering. “Owl post isn’t the utmost of communications either. Now, what does this mean? It didn’t take? You assured me it would happen on the first attempt. There was no guesswork here, you said. It’s a spell, not fertilisation!”

Snape tensed. “You should understand that She-Who-Should-Not-Be-Minister has tightened the noose around my neck. I’ve been informed that she’s choked us off financially and placed Potter under strict house arrest. I must find out why this has happened before I allow the infestation to occur, Lucius.”

“Infestation…I’ll put someone inside to work on that. Do you have any idea as to why she might be doing this? I thought Potter was the wizarding world’s saviour.”

“It’s unclear. I doubt Weasley or Granger informed her of Draco’s arrival. There’s something else going on. Tell your dark wizard friends to keep their noses clear of us. We have no route of escape if she decides to pull the plug on the Potters’ lives this soon.”

Lucius frowned. “Pull the plug? Why would she do that?”

“Everyone believes him dead anyway. When the Ministry finds out he’s planning on allowing another dark wizard to…Well, that’s where you come in. I trust you won’t disappoint me.”

“Draco’s not dark. I’m doing all that I can to find a safe haven, but it will mean nothing if that heir isn’t produced quickly. Veela have ways of finding everything they believe are theirs.” said Lucius.

Snape narrowed his eyes. “Never would I have allowed this union between him and your son unless I thought it would benefit us. I have been sworn to protect Harry and his boy by death, Malfoy. I have no intention on letting any harm come to them. I want your money, your protection and your word that the three of us will be very comfortable under your hand. Get us out of here soon or your son becomes an unfortunate memory.”

Lucius broke the contact, stumbling back into the settee behind him. Money wouldn’t be a problem. Protection was the problem. As friendly as he was with a few of his old ‘hunting fellows’, he had promised to stay away from the dark arts forever.

“Polly,” he groaned, feeling weak and drained. “Polly, where is that invitation?”

The small house-elf snapped her fingers, producing the thick letter from thin air. “It’s here, Master.” She handed him the Death Eater’s invitation, hiding her frown.

“Thank you,” he said quietly, meeting her gaze. “It’s all just a very large fishbowl that we swim. I feared this day would come.”

* * *

Sitting in the back garden, in the middle of a fairy circle of mushrooms and clusters of heather, Cissy picked at the flowers spun into her hair, untangling the threads of silvery-white from the thick stems. “Oh, they looked so pretty. Why did you take them out?” Draco mocked a sad pout as his daughter laid the wilting petals in his hand. “It doesn’t matter; you’re still very pretty without them.”

“No,” she said, closing his hand around them. "No fwowers, daddy."

Marvolo rolled his eyes and returned his attention to the grass. He hadn’t remembered ever touching grass before, as much as he wanted to. The one bright thing his father had done since allowing the white man to come live with them was let him talk him into taking the children outside to get some sun on them and play. He dragged his fingers and toes through the lush blades and tipped his face up into the sunlight, letting the warmness swathe him. “This is amazing. I had no idea the outside was so vastly different from the inside.”

Draco marvelled at the boy. “He’s got quite the vocabulary for a three year old, Potter.”

“We really shouldn’t stay out here very long.” Harry lifted his son up. He trapped him between his knees and wrapped his arms around his waist, snuggling him close. He smiled a genuine smile at his old nemesis, loving the sensation of close human contact with his only offspring. There was no pain; Snape and he infused their blood as Lord Voldemort had long ago with Harry. As they already shared blood and his mother's protections, being father and son, the potion took very well. There would be no pain through their cursed scars. “I can’t stop holding him. Look at this, I can't put him down!" he chimed, hugging the skinny boy up against his cheek. "This is the best day I’ve had in months!”

Always the spoilt, selfish brat who liked being the centre of attention, Draco shrugged at the statement, frowning with insult. “I don’t know about that, Potter, the other night was pretty damned good, don’t you think?”

“What do you mean?” Harry asked, tipping his head.

Shocked the man had forgotten, Draco leaned in to remind him. “You know, the s-e-x. How I gave it to you, and you were like, 'Oh my God, so good!'. That. It was fantastic.”

Harry covered Marvolo’s ears. “Um no, it really wasn’t.”

"Yeah, yeah, deny it all you want. The proof is in the pudding...or shall I say 'splattered all over you', whatever." Draco gave him a sexy wink, ignoring his frown. “We’re going to try again tonight too, so you know.”

“And what if I say no? _Will your father hear about this?_ ” Harry grinned wickedly at him, feeling quite pleased with himself. He was still covering Marvolo’s ears. It became obvious he had a bit of animosity over that night and wanted to take it out on the former Slytherin. “Be sure to complain to him straight away about how I'm not giving you what you want! He might need to go to the Ministry and file a formal complaint, get me sacked. Maybe he'll buy you a better updated version of me for you to show off with.”

“Really, you’re going there… _orphan_?” Draco put his hands over his daughter’s ears. She didn’t need to hear this. “Manners, Potter. Technically, I’m still a member of the Inquisitorial Squad. I might have to punish you for such outbursts, especially in front of the children. Detention tonight in my chambers. I'm talking whips, chains, Veratiserum...it's gonna be amazing.”

“Oh, yeah, always bringing up your girlfriend Umbridge…that piece of work's not going to be much of a fan of yours once she finds out about what you’re up to.” Harry’s lip curled up devilishly. “It’s a shame you couldn’t use all that money you have to buy some manners, you amazing bouncing ferret.”

“Oh, money…That’s what you’re getting at! I knew it had to be about something you don't understand. Let me venture a guess; need some for the Weasleys?” Draco asked, sneering. “…because from the looks of them they still have none. How does Ron keep that Mudblood happy without any? I just can't see her staying with him for any other reason. Maybe he's packing a lot of heat downstairs.”

"You said..." A cold, clammy sweat broke out on Harry's back. He began to tremble. “...shove off.”

Draco cocked his head, confused. “Shove off? Says The-Boy-Who-Had-Awful-Comebacks. C’mon, you’ve done better than that…in… Potter?”

Harry looked back at him curiously, hardly understanding what he was saying to him as the intense urge to tear the child in his arms to pieces took hold and possessed him. His head dropped low, his eyes narrowed, teeth clenched, fingers began curling, the nails digging into the flesh of his son’s chubby cheeks. _"~Gonna kill you...~_ ," he hissed through the growing rage. _"~Tear you apart!~_ "

“Oh, no, no, no, no, no _!_ ” Draco set Cissy down on the grass behind him and lunged out toward the two Potters, taking one of the boy's small arms in hand. Marvolo was snugly trapped in his father’s embrace as the man doubled over and tensed up rigid. “Let him go, Potter,” Draco said sternly. He sensed the internal fight within his old nemesis to stop himself, but finding it impossible to control for any amount of time. “I can see you fighting to hold back and I know you can hear me. This is your little boy, Harry— Let him go!” Cupping the child’s neck to support it, Draco carefully wedged himself between Marvolo and Harry. He bent the man's fingers back, prying them away one by one until the child fell forward onto the ground. “Run!”

Draco tried to prevent any skin contact but he and Harry had been careless, figuring in the spell’s duration and severely miscalculating it. Wearing shorts and a cotton top, it was nearly impossible to restrain him without some touching of skin. “Oh, my wand!”

“Please don’t hurt my daddy, Mr Malfoy.” Marvolo brought his hand up, ghosting his fingers over the deep scratches striping his face. His other hand possessed Cissy's to keep her at a safe distance from their fathers during the struggle.

“I won’t hurt him, I promise. Now, stay back. _Accio wand!_ ” A thick blob of blood dribbled from his bottom lip as he spoke the incantation, and the instant the glowing light burst forth, Harry slumped languidly into the grass.

“Let’s get inside,” Draco said, giving Harry some space to recover. He ushered both children up through the garden and led them into the sitting room, finding Severus with his head bent into the fireplace. “Watch them, please. I’m going to try and bring Harry in and I want them out of the way.”

Snape dusted his sleeves off as he rose up to his feet. His eyes travelled the length of the bleeding, dishevelled man. “Having a problem?”

"Not really." Draco smirked. “Nothing I can’t handle.”

“Right,” said Snape.

* * *

“Come on, it’s all right. He’s fine, I’m fine.” Draco wedged his hands under Harry’s arms and hoisted him up. Mud had caked his clothing and skin, and formed thick matting at the crown of his head. "Stop feeling sorry for yourself."

"I hurt him, Malfoy." Harry pushed him away. His two solid hours of self-wallowing were nearly complete, but a few extra minutes wouldn’t hurt anything. How could he have been so stupid? “This morning when we took the potion there was no pain, not in my scar, nothing. I got so carried away that I must have miscalculated how much time we had left. I could have killed him.”

"But you didn't. You let me take him." Draco sighed. The sun was setting behind a canvas of orange and violet clouds. He was half tempted to throw the brooding man over his shoulder and lug him indoors. “We won’t let it happen again. This doesn’t mean you can’t touch your son anymore so quit your blubbering and go take a shower. I hate you looking all dirty like this. I like the men I sleep with to practice good hygiene. It’s not too much to ask.”

Harry rolled his eyes. “Very funny, ferret. Did I hear you say ‘Mudblood’ at some point or did I imagine that?”

“No, Potter, of course not. I promised I wouldn’t say that anymore. Remember?” Draco brushed his lips over the nape of Harry’s neck, causing the other to flinch from the tiny contact. “Enough moping, scarhead, get up.” He gave him a rough shove and hefted him up again. “Get in the fucking house.”

Harry jerked away. He stood in silence for a long while, still brooding over the unfortunate situations that kept popping up. Nothing was going right for them. Lord Voldemort had done far more than just curse him and turn his boy into a soul catcher. Was the spell weakening his resistance, had he miscalculated its duration or was Hermione correct and using the counter is strengthening the curse? He sighed. Always more research to do, always more work. He was tired, he no longer wanted to think about how terrible his life was anymore.

“Okay, Malfoy,” he said turning around. But as he looked around the garden he was alone. Draco was gone.

* * *

Lost in a dream, Harry hadn’t heard his door open and close, or the lock sliding into place. It was the words of a spell being cast in his direction that stirred him. The dip of the mattress beside him and the hands on his bare back made him shiver. The rousing grew. Harry gasped at the feel of a tongue in his ear. He rolled onto his back, brushing his leg over the hardness of Draco’s flesh.

“What are you doing?” he whispered, intrigued.

Draco’s sweet face was so close to his. He was wearing a silly grin and was playfully nibbling on his bottom lip. “I’m going to make love to you.”

“You’ve never made love before in your life.” Long stands of white hair cascaded against Harry’s cheeks. He closed his eyes as soft lips grazed his throat. The heady scent of whiskey and desire filled his nostrils. “Pissed again, hmm?”

Draco pressed his fingers over Harry’s mouth. “Shut. Up. You’re not going to ruin this, not tonight. You’re so bloody gorgeous,” he whispered and smiled at the feeling of the tip of Harry’s tongue rolling over each digit as he sucked them into his mouth. The drunk blond sighed contentedly. Potter really was something to admire. The hell he must have endured during his short life showed no signs of stress tonight. He was elegant, every move he made calculated and overtly sensual.

Harry twisted the blond’s arms up behind his back and flipped him over onto the mattress. He loomed over him like a cat toying with its prey. A raunchy grin grew strong on his lips as he watched as the ex-Slytherin miserably tried to lean upward for another smooch. He grabbed his face with one hand, squishing his lips full. “What would you do if I kissed you, Malfoy? Hmm?” he asked him through a flirtatious tone in his waking voice. He rocked over him, pressing his pelvic bone into the man’s groin.

“Whawha?” Malfoy tried to ask him, but Harry squished his lips closer together to shut him up.

“What if maybe I kissed you long and hard, maybe went further than that, maybe took your clothes off and got you all hot and bothered, maybe took advantage of that while you’re all wobbly and weak?” Harry asked him as he gazed around the dark room to be sure they were alone together. This being a very interesting predicament he found himself in, he wanted to let go of his inhibitions and pride and allow himself to enjoy this. Merlin knew Draco would have done the same thing. In fact, Draco’s the one who initiated this intimacy to begin with. And Draco’s the one who tried to stun and impregnate him like a common criminal the week before. And and and Draco wasn’t going to remember much of this night, if anything at all. Draco would want this, he would totally want this - even if he was punch drunk in nearly every sense of the word. “How much of this will you remember tomorrow?”

“I frequently incur blackouts,” Draco admitted through a sloppy grin, hoping this strange conversation was going the way it sounded. “Why?”

“No reason,” Harry replied against Malfoy’s lips before pressing theirs together, parting them with his tongue while he wrapped his body around his torso.

Draco pushed up off the mattress, wrapped an arm around the man on top of him and rolled him back against the mattress. He tipped his head back, breaking the kiss to breathe while the warmth of lust flowed steadily toward all of his extremities. He leaned down, ghosting his lips to Harry’s throat and skimmed down over his finely haired chest, tasting the soap and salty sweat in his pores. Finding his nipple, he captured it in his teeth, nipping and tugging at the velvet peak.

Harry sighed. Draco pressed his fingers over his mouth once more to feel his audible contentment. Harry sucked at each of the pads. He ran his tongue along the wrist, wetting it. The pulsing veins quivered under the pressure. He continued the actions, licking every inch of Draco’s arm, returning to kiss the damp spots.

“I don’t want to hurt you again,” Harry whispered against the tender skin of the inner part of his elbow. “I'm worried about the spell. What if it wears off?”

Draco nuzzled against him. “It won’t, don’t worry.”

Harry fell back against his pillow. “What if it does? We should probably time it some more, see if it’s losing strength faster.”

“Hmm…” The thought had crossed Draco’s mind. He knew he was slightly physically stronger than Harry, even in inebriation. In the heat of passion, though, being trapped between his thighs could pose a small threat. “Oh, I’ve got it.” Casually, he reached down over the side of the bed and grabbed the belt from his robe. “I’ll tie you up.”

“Oh, um,” Harry said, wavering. “Do we have to? Let’s just snog or something. We’ll time it, see how long it lasts.” He reached out for the bedside table for his alarm clock but Draco grabbed his wrist.

“You’re not frightened of being tied up, are you? C’mon it’s hot.” Draco nudged himself between Harry’s legs, compressing his body flat against him. Their lashes flitted as their lips touched. Draco took care in the soft caress, holding his urge to jab his tongue deep into his mouth. “Don’t be afraid.”

“Afraid of you? No.” Harry threaded his fingers through the silken hair and parted his lips, craving the taste of his tongue. “You’re sobering up, I see. We should just kiss while I time it. Kissing’s hot, too. Hard to do it while shagging.” Softly, he pressed their lips together.

Without breaking the kiss, Draco gathered his wrists up and pinned them together. He wound the soft belt around them and knotted it. His ankles hooked over Harry’s legs to hold him steady, feeling him baulk at becoming vulnerable. “The point of doing this is to fuck, doll-face, remember? We’ve got to do the deed to activate the curse,” he whispered over his trembling lips. He gripped the man’s face, tipping his chin upward to show him a bit of dominance, and to prove to him he wouldn’t hurt him. “I promise I’ll go nice and slow. I’ll be very gentle.”

“I meant just…tonight. Uh, it’s just that… uh, okay, I guess this is okay.” All the times Harry had ever been tied up in the past had happened during terrible situations and always involved a lot of darkness and pain, but he’d rather die than admit to Draco that he might not be able to mentally handle this. He tried to relax. He would have to disassociate himself from that. If the counter curse was truly losing its strength, they might need to save any reserves for emergencies only. He felt his arms being stretched up over his head as the belt was secured to the brass spindles of the bedstead. It was incredibly unnerving, giving up control of his own body to someone he still felt slightly uncomfortable around.

Draco took his time, licking and sipping at his lips as he securely threaded the belt back around the man’s wrists. “It’s not too tight, is it?”

Giving it a firm tug, Harry suppressed a shudder. He wouldn’t be able to defend himself. “No, it’s fine.”

Looking a whole lot less drunk and whole lot more sober and evil, Draco leaned in closer to Harry’s face and placed a kiss on the tip of his nose. He grinned a wicked grin, causing chills to trickle down Harry’s spine. “You look worried, Potter. You’re not scared, are you?”

Harry’s heart began to beat faster, watching the blond loom over him as he ran the tips of his fingers up the length of his inner thigh. “I already told you I’m ready, Malfoy. Let’s get on with this, alright?”

“I’m so ready to fuck you. Gods, you have no idea,” Draco murmured. “You turn me on like no one ever has before. What is it about you, Potter?”

“Me?” Harry arched up; meeting his need, screwing his eyes up as Draco lifted his thighs off of the mattress and claimed him.

“Yeah, you.” The sensation was like nothing the blond had ever felt before. It was more than physical, more than emotional, it was something in between that branched out to combine them. It was fantastic. To him, Harry was very shaggable, especially all tensed up and trembling underneath him, so worried about what the big bad wolf might do next. He reached out, petting his mass of hair out of his eyes to calm his nerves. “We’re going to screw all the time, Harry Potter, you and me,” he mumbled unconsciously, lost in the sensation of swelling pleasure thrumming in his groin. “I’ve grown very fond of this, and I don’t plan on giving it up anytime soon.”

For a moment Harry forgot to breathe. He knew, just by reading the man’s near-incoherent thoughts, that the word-salad he was blabbering about was true. Malfoy was developing feelings for him in nothing short of a week after their reintroduction. Maybe he had never found someone as close to him in age and intelligence after the war started. Maybe being told to marry someone you didn’t know might make you want to look for someone else to connect with; anyone else. Either way, no one had ever said anything near as beautiful to or about him before, not even the man who had claimed him as his personal whore and vowed to murder anyone who touched him. Solitude had given birth to a great many fantasies that ended this way; with two people who connected of their own free will. They would fall in love, get married, have hundreds of beautiful children.

He also figured that once the seed was planted their tedious relationship would most likely revert back to the way it was, pre-marriage contract. No one could really feel that way about him. He wasn’t sure why no one could truly love him, but he assumed it had a lot to do with the fact that he was an orphan, a half-blood, a charity case, the unfortunate Chosen One, or The-Boy-Who-Lived. Sometimes he wished he hadn’t.

A line of sweat pooled at the tip of Draco’s nose. Harry’s throaty mewling buzzed his ears, giving way to his resistance of hanging on to the astounding pleasure. “I’m gonna come, babe,” he whispered, while reaching out once more to caress his lover’s sweaty face in an adoring manner. And then he leaned in hard, forcing Harry to bend inward while he gripped his hips. Their skin glistened with sweat, their bodies wracked from cresting as they came nearly as one in the heated night.

Draco shuddered into the curve of Harry’s thighs, hearing the sounds his lover was making twist into something less appropriate than his previous sexy miffs. No longer was a passion fuelling his lips, his words turned dark. He leaned in, watching Potter hiss at him in a tongue he could not understand. He growled as his hands balled into fists, his lips curled in a wretched sneer. His eyes were coated in a milky sheen, the palest green and completely unfocused.

Draco backed off as Harry jerked hard at his restraints. His stiff body desperately lashed back, wanting to break free and rip and slash at anything he could touch. A sickening tear filled the room as the belt ripped free from the bed.

Draco shoved himself back and fell onto the floor, breaking all contact from him. He looked at the clock on the nightstand, sighing. The spell had worn off in under thirty minutes, when it lasted nearly an hour the time before. “Maybe it varies…” he mumbled, and pulled his robe over his shoulders. “Or the counter-spell is strengthening your resistance to the untouchable curse.” He stood up and looked down. Harry had pulled the sheets up over him and curled onto his side.

“That’s what Hermione thought might happen.” He tossed the shredded belt over his shoulder. “Sorry about that.”

Draco let it fall to the floor. “I’ll think of something else. I’m not giving up.”

Harry looked up at him. “No, you’d better not.”

* * *

After a solid week of research, brewing and truth-finding, everything fell into alignment for the first moment in months. The instant he apparated in the street, Draco wasted no time. He raced towards the house and threw open the door. “Potter!” he cried, his eyes everywhere. No one was present. Room by room he searched, almost missing him as he dashed by the kitchen.

“There you are!” He reached out like a seeker to a snitch and grabbed Harry’s arm before he had the chance to flee. “No time to waste. On the table.”

“Where have you been?” Harry tugged his arm away. “You’ve been gone so long I think your daughter’s forgotten you’re her father. She called me “daddy” this morning. Nice, huh?”

With a suggestive smirk, Draco tipped his head and poked his wand into Harry’s belly. “Get up there. We’ve got business to attend to.”

Harry gaped at him, unable to read his expression well enough. “Oh, you’re joking. You want another go? Right here? No, it isn’t working anyway. Stop prodding me. Stop it! Stop-” Before he could react, Draco bent down and threw his shoulder into Harry’s gut, doubling him over. He hefted him up and dropped him on the preparation table.

Completely sober for the first time in over ten years, Draco felt like he could rule the world with his little finger. He stood over Harry as he pulled his gloves from his pocket, on a mission to finish what they’d started. “You’re not going to believe the surprise I’ve got for you. Something your little babysitter neglected to mention to either of us.”

* * *

Hermione sat back in her chair as the Minister’s office door opened. Delores Umbridge, the Minister of Magic, leaned out and waved her in. “Hurry up, Weasley, my time is brief.”

“Yes, of course,” she said, following her in. She sat down in front of the woman’s desk and opened her bag, removing a large stack of parchment. “I just wanted to ask about this.” She spread the papers out on the desk, watching Delores’s reaction as she adjusted her glasses to look them over.

“This,” she snapped up a copy of the Gringotts bank transferal of Harry’s funds, “is none of your business. He’s supposed to be dead, remember? Dead men don’t need money.”

Unaffected by her high-pitched, snooty gripes, Hermione smiled and straightened out her cuff. “I understand exactly what you’re saying, but the fact is you put his money in your own account. That’s not shifting the funds to keep his living status a secret, that’s stealing.”

Delores darkened. “Are you accusing me of stealing his money?” Her hand reached under her desk, fingering the wand she had taped to the underneath.

“Er… sort of,” Hermione replied. “I was hoping there was a reasonable explanation for this. Are they aware you’ve severed their funds?”

“Severus Snape has been informed of their financial depletion. He’s allowed a Death Eater into his home, a direct violation of our contract. Harry Potter is planning something dastardly! I am this close (she pinched her thumb and index finger tightly together) to having him arrested!”

Hermione sat back in confusion. “A Death Eater? You mean Draco Malfoy? He is not a Death Eater and this has nothing to do with the war. What gives you the right to threaten him again?”

Sensing the young woman’s honesty, Delores loosened her grip on the wand. “Draco Malfoy- that delightful young man? I had no idea it was him. Regardless, he _is_ a Death Eater. I was told…”

“He’s not, Delores. He has the Dark Mark but he was hardly a Death Eater. Check your records.” Hermione stood up and gathered her papers. “And think about this… Harry has done so much for our world and lives in solitude to keep up your appearance. I think he’s suffered long enough. You don’t have to like him but you should at least allow him to have some sort of happiness.”

“I’ll take that into consideration. And I’m not stealing from him!” she added.

Hermione looked back as the left the room. “I hope not, madam. Have it fixed or I’ll show these records to the Order.”

Delores stood up quickly. “Is that a threat?” Her wand was now firmly in the palm of her hand.

“It’s a promise.” Hermione looked back and froze. She watched the wand, saw the words of the stunning spell form on the Minister’s lips. She almost laughed. For the briefest moment she considered countering it and hexing the old witch into next week, but that would get her into trouble. Instead, she closed her eyes as it slammed into her.

* * *

Harry licked his lips nervously, his eyes fixed on the pair of handcuffs Draco was dangling in his face. “Oh… so, um, what are you-”

“Can’t break out of these, darling.” Draco pushed Harry’s sleeve back with his gloved hand, snapping a cuff to it and locking it in place. “Just get your pants off.”

“I don’t really understand any of this.” Regardless, Harry peeled his jeans off. He sat on the edge of the table, watching Draco fumble with his clothing out of the corner of his eye. He really was striking. So long and lean, his face all chiselled and sharp. He felt himself blush, thinking such things. “Ridiculous really, the most ungodly match. If only my mother could see me now.”

Draco was rambling as he folded his clothing and set them on a stool. “…so then my father tells me everything. Snape’s lied to both of us to keep the curse from happening until he’d securely blackmailed him into a safe place for you, him and your son to hide out when the Ministry comes to have us killed for doing this.”

“Wait, what?” Harry snapped from his thoughts. “They’ll kill us for doing this? Says who?” He tried to stand but Draco shoved him back down.

“Doesn’t matter. Snape got what he wanted and I got this.” He held up a small phial of shimmering fluid. He dragged Harry backward along the table towards the wall, looking for a solid place to cuff him to.

“What is it?”

“Drink it.” Draco uncorked it and handed it back to him. “The little surprise I mentioned. It’s a catalyst, a very important part of the curse. It awakens it and gets you ready, and then I seal the deal… so to speak. You need it to create the life, it’s very controlled. My father had it brewed. He said you’re going to feel very strange.”

“You’re sure about this? Severus never mentioned it.” Harry sniffed the bottle and flinched. “Ick, smells awful!”

Draco coaxed it to his lips. “Quite sure. I’m guessing you don’t remember the last time you did this. I must tell you, there’s more to it than that potion.” Harry swallowed down the foul liquid and immediately gagged. Draco clamped his hand over his mouth and eased him back against the table. “Don’t lose it! Relax, relax. This stuff was not easy to brew and I doubt we’ll get another chance.” Carefully, as Harry recovered, he lifted his arms over his head and pulled him up the kitchen wall cabinet. He laced the cuff through the handle before handcuffing his other wrist in place. Returning to his side, he delicately stroked his hair. “Are you all right?”

“Lovely.” It felt like the potion was burning a hole through his stomach. The strong urge to retch crept back. Harry swallowed it back down. “Cast the spell and finish this so I can vomit.”

Draco pulled his gloves off and tossed them next to him. He bent over him, frowning. “I can’t, Potter. It cancels the catalyst. We’ve got to do this the hard way.”

Harry groaned. “Oh Mordred, as if this wasn’t humiliating enough. Now I get to think of nothing other than snapping your neck during it.”

“If it helps.” He winked at him fetchingly. “Just think of like you’re really angry with me so I’ve tied you to the table and had my way with you.”

Harry tugged again on his bonds. “That’s not too far off to imagine, strangely enough.”

Draco was as close to him as he could be without touching his bare skin. “You really do make this so easy to want, Potter. I wish we could have been friends. Imagine all of the marvellous fucking we could have had in school to relieve that awful tension between us.”

Harry laughed. “That would have been something.”

“Well, here it comes… the magic moment. Wish me luck.” As he closed their distance, he pressed his lips fully to Harry’s. For a brief moment Harry remained himself and kissed him back, the supple contact between them overcame the dominance of rage as their plush lips met.

* * *

Cissy sat up in bed rubbing her eyes. She looked around in the dark, smelling the thick smoke, seeing nothing but cloudy blobs illuminated by the moonlight. “Marvo,” she said between whimpers, “Marvo?”

She grabbed her stuffed unicorn and slid off the side of the bed. Her small feet quickly padded across the cold floor in confusion. Her friend’s bed was so hard to see through the clouds. She shook the bedding in her tiny fists. “Wake up. Get daddy.” Only he wasn’t in his bed. Confused, she moved to the door. The hallway was so hot. She coughed, frightened by the threatening smolder billowing out from the end of it.

A slight knock at the door roused Draco. His eyes opened just enough to realise it was still very dark outside. “Go back to bed, too early,” he croaked, feeling the dull thud of a hangover swimming around in his head. He pulled his pillow over his face and rolled onto his side, draping his arm over Harry’s chest.

There was another loud rap and a small voice, “My eyes burn.”

“Okay, darling.” He groaned and sat up, the pillow dropped into his lap. He threw his legs over the side of the bed and grabbed his robe, gesturing to Harry to go back to sleep. “Her eyes burn… how silly.”

Harry propped his head up in his hand, blinking heavily. “My eyes burn, too.” He wrapped his sheet around his pyjama-clad shoulders and burrowed back into his pillow.

Draco snorted and stumbled to the door. The moment he opened it his heart took a heavy jolt. The dim hall was filled with a curtain of thick grey smoke, surging up from the stairs. He snaked his arms around his daughter and slammed the door, throwing his back to it. “Potter, get up! The house is on fire!”

Harry shot up from bed, panic fuelling his movement. “Marvolo- move!” Draco sidestepped the door as Harry flung it back open and ran out into the hall. Shouts turned into shrieks. There was heavy pounding and frantic trampling around the upper level. Opening the window, Draco looked down and cringed at the altitude of the drop they’d have to take.

Cissy tugged on her father’s robe. “No Marvo.”

“Huh?” Grabbing his wand, he lifted the child up and set her on the window ledge. The wards were down. Someone had removed them. “Be very still. When you touch the ground - do not move. Be a good girl for daddy, all right?”

“He’s gone! They’re not here!” Harry pounded on his bedroom door with his fist. “Snape! He’s not here! What the hell?”

“Okay,” she said. He knew somehow as he levitated his daughter to the safety of the garden that Harry would not find his son or Severus. The smoke was filling his lungs. He coughed hard. It was very difficult to breathe, even with his face outside the window. “Come on, Potter, get back here. We’ve got to jump!”

“He’s set the potion stores on fire!” Harry was back in the room. He clutched his throat and grabbed a duvet off of the bed. His words were mingled with ragged coughing. “He’s gone, Draco. I don’t understand it… He can’t leave me.”

“ _Stay there, Cissy, daddy’s coming!_ ” The small girl now stood beneath the window in the garden, looking up at her father. He grabbed Harry’s arm and pulled him to the window. “Come on, jump. _And move a bit to the side, darling! Yes, daddy’s good girl!_ Okay, jump, Potter.”

“Careful, I don’t have my gloves on.” Harry grabbed a pair of jeans off of the floor and tightened the duvet around him fully before leaping.

Draco hit the ground on all fours and stood up quickly. Picking Cissy up, he grabbed Harry’s arm, yanking him to his side. “Hold on to my arm,” he said, giving warning, praying he could manage apparating three people at once. “This could get messy.”

* * *

The instant they appeared in the parlour of Malfoy manor, Draco and Harry both gasped. Standing there, waiting for their arrival, Lucius and Bellatrix pointed their wands at Harry. “There’s a good lad, don’t move now.”

“What the bloody hell?” Draco set Cissy down and stood in front of Harry.

Harry felt his heart thump against his chest. Before he got the chance to muster the hatred to kill her Bellatrix was behind him, her fingers carding through his hair. They tightened within the mass and yanked his head back. Her wand was poking his throat. “Let’s go, Potter. No funny stuff or I hurt that little girl.”

“What?!” Draco was grappled before he could react. A wand was also thrust at his neck. “Did you plan this? Did you set the sodding house on fire with my child inside?”

“We knew Potter would save you all. He’s a bloody hero, right? How else could I get you to bring him here?” His voice dripped with loathe for the man. “Unfortunately, Snape and the boy got away. I’ve got everyone looking for them.”

Draco scowled. “What are you going to do with him?”

“He’ll live.”

“He’d better live! You’ve gone and done it, haven’t you? You’ve gone back to them.” Bellatrix re-entered the room and picked up the small girl clinging to her father’s leg. “You’re an effing Death Eater. And you,” he said, shaking with disgust, “give me my daughter right now.” He looked back at Lucius. “This is your insider, eh? She’s fed you all your information? You make me sick.”

Lucius looked away. “Is everything in order, Bella?”

“Put her down you sodding bint.”

“Yeah, he’s been taken care of. He won’t be hurting himself or anyone else,” She rubbed her reddened cheek scornfully. “He’s got a massive right hook.” She nuzzled up to Draco, tracing his jawline with a finger, tittering and grinning wickedly. “I wasn’t going to hurt her, I like to tease Potter that way. It gets me off… Or maybe I meant it. Who knows? You best watch yourself or you’ll find out.”

“I wouldn’t let that happen.” Lucius said, looking at her. Draco lurched aggressively at her but was jerked back. “Where do you think you’re going?”

“Ugh, I need to see if he’s alright!”

Lucius released him. “Of course. Escort him, Bella. Oh, and Draco,” He sheathed his wand and plucked his granddaughter out of Bellatrix’s arms. “Ask him to tell you the truth about his son. I think he’s forgotten to mention a small detail about him your aunt was so kind to inform me of.”

“Come on.” Bellatrix walked off and Draco followed closely behind, wondering what his father had meant about the last comment.

* * *

Ron sat silently on the steps outside of his bedroom, reading over the letter he’d just had delivered. “Hermione Weasley - Aiding and harbouring a known Death Eater. This is ridiculous!” He stood up, letting the letter slip from his fingers and walked down the stairs.

“Harry Potter!” he shouted, throwing a handful of floo powder into the fireplace. He waited, drumming his fingers on the mantle, but Harry never appeared. He stepped inside the fire pit with another large handful. Tossing it at his feet, he shouted, “Number thirty-two, Lowercroft!” Again, nothing happened.

“This isn’t right…” Pulling his wand from his cloak, he apparated to the boundaries of Harry’s home. The wards to the house had dissipated. All that stood was the charred frame of the house. Several uniformed people wandered inside poking through the remnants. Most of them were Muggle police and firefighters but he recognised a few Ministry personnel mingled between them. “Oi, Edgecombe!”

Madam Edgecombe waved and made her way through the rubble towards the walkway. “Mr. Weasley, you don’t know what’s happened here, do you?” The elder woman played the loose strands of her hair, feeling slightly guilty about Ronald’s sudden loss. “I’m very sorry to hear about your wife’s arrest, I’m certain this will be cleared up in no time. Hermione is a good woman. We all know she would never aid a former Death Eater.”

“Thanks. Where’s Harry? What’s happened here?”

Edgecombe shook her head. “All I know is there were two Aurors assigned to arrest the Death Eater residing here this very morning and when they arrived this is what they found. No bodies have been recovered as of yet. I’m assuming all present had escaped.”

“Right.” Ron frowned. Things had gone from bad to worse. “And was the Death Eater here as of yesterday?”

Edgecombe nodded as she flipped through her notepad. “One source confirms that by sighting, two others say ‘yes’. Mr. Potter violated some contract last evening. I do not know the contents of this document. I’m only here to ensure the Floo Network had been properly turned off. I suppose I was a bit curious, had a look around… There was a child’s room upstairs. I do hope no children were injured.”

Ron sighed. “Somehow I doubt it. Do you happen to know if the Floo Network is still working in the Malfoy household?”

She glanced around the street before pulling her wand free from her purse. With a flicking wave, her notebook lit up. “Yes, as of now it is properly working. May I ask why?”

“No reason…” Ron bit at the inside of his cheek for a moment. “Be a doll and not mention this conversation to Umbridge, please?”

“My lips are sealed. Good luck, Ronald,” She patted his shoulder and stepped back into the house as Ron apparated away, intent on finding Harry.


	4. Tell the Truth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After revealing many secrets about his time in the camps and allowing Draco to 'seal the deal', Harry is tested in another, more personal way as his guilty conscious fights to deny: his true feelings about Draco and sex.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is two chapters in one. The first half has so much exposition in it I fear I may scare most of you off, so I added the next chapter to it which includes smut that was one of the most fun things I've ever enjoyed writing. 
> 
> This isn't final edited but it's pretty darned close. If I confuse you with anything please leave me a comment and I will clear it up. I honestly don't know why I choose to write smut with terribly involved plots. I'm a glutton for punishment, I guess. Hope you enjoy it. :)

Opening the gate to the lower quarters, Draco felt a shiver crawl over his spine. “I cannot believe you’ve brought him down here. You do understand he very well might have a condition that cannot be taken lightly-”

Bellatrix shoved Draco through the gate and locked it behind her. “This area’s harmless. He’ll be no danger to anyone until we find a trusting Secret Keeper for the two of you. And that can take a while.” She pointed down to the end of the darkened corridor. “He’s in there. Do not free him, Draco, he can perform wandless magic. I’m not talking about simple spells, either. He’s deadly. I’ll wait at the door with my wand drawn. One funny move and you both go down. Understood, sonny?”

This part of the cellar had always been off limits to Draco. He was told this was where the ghosts lived, where they stayed just out of sight, waiting to follow you back up if you ever dared to venture to its depths. He swallowed hard in his throat as he peeked into the room. It was small, practically bare. The walls were cold and stone, the floor damp earth. Harry was resting over a small cot in the corner with his arms bent up at a painful angle. There was conjured rope binding his wrists to a flickering torch bolted to the wall above him. He was still dressed in his pyjamas and socks and he didn’t look up when Draco opened the door.

“Hey, Potter…Harry,” he said softly, but again, no recognition was given. He moved in closer, feeling his heart skip a beat as he watched for any signs of breathing. For a moment Harry took no breath, sending Draco into the start of a panic. "Harry? Look at me!"

"Stop being dramatic; that's my job." Bellatrix leaned up against the back of the opened door and fiddled with her wand. “Don’t forget to ask him about the boy.”

Draco knelt down beside him and gave his knee a shake. “Are you all right? ” Relief washed over him as he witnessed Harry stir. "We're not staying. I'm gonna get us out of here as soon as I can." He wrapped his hand in a stiff white sheet lying crumpled over the bed and dabbed the end of it on his tongue. “You’ve got some black stuff here, put your head back, babe.”

Harry lifted his head and gave him a lopsided grin. He looked lackadaisically around the cold, dank, moss-covered cell, squinting for lack of glasses. “Sssso, this is your home… It’s r-r-really quite lovely. Exactly how I picsured it.”

Draco cocked his head as he wiped the soot away from Harry’s nostrils. He turned and looked at the open door, frowning. “Did you give him something? What’s wrong with him?” He reached up and pried open Harry’s left eye through the sheet. The pupil was fully dilated. “What in the fuck did you give him?”

Bellatrix popped her head inside, brimming with fits of laughter. “Just following orders, deary. Talk to him long enough, he won’t remember his own name!”

Growling in frustration, Draco tapped the man’s face several times to get his attention. “Harry, look at me. Come on, wake up. Harry, look-at-me! Tell me about Marvolo. Why would Snape run off with him?”

Harry flinched back. “Oh noooo…you don’t wwant to know. You’ll be so pppissed off.”

Draco gripped his chin through the sheet, forcing him to give him his attention. It was clear Harry would have preferred to gnaw his hands free rather than tell Draco his little secret. The captive cringed, his chest rose and fell as he began to pant. "Relax, love. Whatever it is I won’t be angry.”

Harry choked back a small whimper. “Yes you wwwill.” He yanked at the rope once more, just in case it might have somehow loosened. “He’s…Hmm, you pppromise not to hit me? And you won't let her tttouch me, right? I cccan't defend myself, not like this.”

“Yes, Harry, I promise none of that will happen.” Draco leaned in closer, thoroughly intrigued. He caressed his cheek through the sheet to sooth his worry. “Now, tell me the truth; your son is…?”

Averting his eyes, Harry caved. “Marvolo is…er, he is Lord Voldemort.”

Draco blinked. “What?”

Harry lowered his voice. “Well, technically. He is…he wwwill be, through genetics and loads of dark arts stuff I don't understand. He's going to turn into Lord Vvvoldemort.”

“He can’t be genetically anything other than you, Potter, the boy is the spitting image of you. You’re delusional.” Draco felt sick to his stomach. He craned around to the door again. “Honesty, what the hell did you give him, Aunt Bella?”

Harry’s eyes roamed around the room, trying to centre on something other than Draco. But focusing on any one thing seemed to be a problem. He knew what he had to say, but spitting the words out seemed more trouble than it was worth. “Oh, you wwwouldn’t believe what a psychotic narcisist wwwill do to become immortal. I don’t know the details. You’d have to ask Sssnape or that cccunting monster there by the door.”

Draco looked at his aunt.

Bellatrix stood fully in the doorway now, smirking at them. “I’ll show you a cunting monster, Potter.”

“Can you understand any of this?” Draco asked her sincerely. “He’s really doped up, there’s no way that little boy could be him.”

Bellatrix looked very smug. “He’s not lying. He isn’t the Dark Lord yet; there are a few more steps needing to be taken before the final transformation. But it will happen, my husband will rise again.”

"Husband?" Draco asked her, unsure he heard her correctly. "You mean 'Roldolphus'? Him, right?"

"Only in the legal sense, for purity," she replied, showing him a toothy grin as she watched him go stark white in response. "My true husband, the Dark Lord, he will return soon to take his rightful leadership back from the pathetic rebels who...temporarily stopped him again." She glared at Harry, seething with all of the hatred she could muster. "He will be back again, you mark my words, boy."

Harry sighed heavily, trying to ignore the gurgling and popping sensation behind his eyes. A thick foggy haze rolled over across his mind, blanketing his cohesive thought. He couldn't even muster up the sadness to cry from being this close to one of the two horrible monsters who tortured him relentlessly for nearly a decade. He remained focused as well as he could on Draco. He needed to keep him on his side. “You don’t hate me for not k-killing Marvolo, do you? He doesn’t know wwwho he isss, who he's supposed to become. He's just a little boy with his own soul, his own free will - unless that freak over there gets her way…but he never wwwill if wwwe can keep him…away from…her and, er…Voldemort's other host.”

"Say that again." Draco bit back a tortured laugh. “His other _what_?”

“His other boy." Harry looked up at Draco with fear in his eyes. "He's out there, Malfoy...out there wwaiting to get his hands on Marvolo and me ssso he can carry out the final steps nnneeded to enact Lord Voldemort's return. His name's Morfin; he's the first child the curse created when the Dark Lord tesssted it on Neville.”

* * *

“He’s there, I know he is. Let me talk to him.”

Lucius scowled at the green floating head of Auror, Ron Weasley. “Good lord, Weasleys in my fireplace…What do you want? Can’t you see I’m in the middle of my manuscript?” He snapped his fingers at the Quick Quotes Quill and stood up from his chair to douse the fire pit with water.

“One word from me and twenty Aurors will be in your parlour in less than five minutes,” warned Ron, returning the scowl. “Let’s avoid that, shall we? Let me talk to him.”

“He’s a little tied up at the moment. I’ll have him get back to you.” Lucius turned the conversation to more pleasantries. “Oh, I hear your wife’s a real killer. Attacked the Minister in her office and harbours a Death Eater so he can play with your little saviour in bed. They put a tiny little Mudblood girl like that in such a scary place as Azkaban? She won’t last a week.”

"Won't last a week? You forget about the last time she was arrested? Remember where she spent that time, Mr Malfoy? You should; you were one of the camp's prison guards...remember?" Ron bared his teeth. “She's gonna be okay. She’s very capable of taking care of herself. Unlike you, she’s been through the real deal and lived to tell about it. If you’ve harmed Harry in any way-”

“Try and prove that he’s even alive before you start tossing threats. I’m quite certain the wizarding world was told that he was killed. He is dead to you now, too, Mr Weasley. Go back to bullying dead Death Eaters’ grannies and never use this floo again!” Lucius grabbed a bucket of water and tossed it into the fireplace, severing the link.

Within a second, an enormous plume of green smoke burst forth and Ron stepped out of the centre of the pit.

Both had their wands drawn and pointed at the other’s hearts. “You must have me confused with someone who might be intimidated by your toothless barking, Malfoy.” He leaned back against the hearth and rapped his fingertips over the mantle, looking cool and collected. “Get him. I’m waiting.”

* * *

Draco jogged up the steps and ran down the hall, hearing the high-pitch buzzing resonate throughout the stately manor. The alarm had gone off, a horrid sound he hadn’t heard since he was a teenager. With his wand drawn, he threw his back up against the frame of the parlour door. He craned his head, peeking inside – and groaned. “Weasel, get off of him.”

Ron glared up at him. “Don’t make me kill your daddy, Malfoy, I just want to see Harry,” he said. He sat straddling Lucius over a bearskin rug, prodding his wand under his chin.

“That’s fine, just get off of him,” Draco repeated. “He’s down here. Off now.”

“He tried to hex me!” Regardless, Ron backed up and got to his feet. His wand remained aggressively pointed at the former-and-returning Death Eater. “Tried and failed. Miserably.” The anxiety he was experiencing was almost too much for Ron to handle. Normally, he could talk these frustrations over with Hermione or share a few pints with Harry. Now everything seemed so out of control. He knew Umbridge was wicked but he never thought she’d deliberately try and kill Harry again or put his wife in prison. “Just think of this as a social matter. I’m not here to stir up any trouble. I need to be sure he’s all right.”

Draco nodded, ignoring Lucius’s insistent shaking of the head and mouthing ‘no’ over and over in rapid succession. “Follow me,” he said.

* * *

“Okay, this is the deal…” Draco stopped, looking at Ron, who was not looking at him. He coughed loudly to gain his attention. Ron was too busy scowling at Bellatrix, his eyes mere slits. “What are you staring at? Would you please listen, Weasel?”

“Stop right there, Lestrange. Back away from him. Keep going…out. That’s a good monster. Close the door.” Ron spoke calmly, directing the Death Eater out into the hall with several prompt flicks of his wand. He shifted uneasily, somewhat stunned seeing her face once more. He snarled at Draco. “A little warning would have been nice, you git. She is a true Death Eater.  She’s a fucking horrible person who served her master in the worst ways possible while he was in power. Why on earth would you leave her alone with Harry for one second?”

Harry's head sprang up in a dizzy overcorrection to look upon his best friend in the whole world. “Calm down, Ron. She didn't tttouch me; I’m fine. You need to get me out of here,” he told him, saying it before the words got too hard to say anymore. Instead of wearing off, the potion’s effects intensified each time he tried to speak.

“Absolutely,” Draco replied, he himself not keen on staying in the manor. “We’re leaving as soon as we find a more reliable…” His eyes centred back on Ron. “Oh, yes.”

Ron sneered at him. “What?”

“You. Perfect.” Draco smirked. “You’re going to be our Secret Keeper.”

* * *

As if nothing in the world mattered, the woman standing on the stoop of the Malfoy Manor fanned her nails in the breeze and sighed contently. Her lengthy yellow-gold hair fluttered around her bare moon-kissed shoulders, her filmy peplos draped beautifully around her shapely figure. A house–elf answered the door, his large brown eyes stared in awe. “May I help you, madam?” he said, unblinking.

“I am ‘ere to zee my daughter, Narcizza and ‘er fazer,” she said, crouching down to the house-elf’s level. Her lovely cornflower-blue eyes glittered in the morning sunlight as she smiled with the sweetest of smiles. “Pleeze zummon my daughter for me, elf. Do zis now, I wait.”

Shaking his head apprehensively, the house-elf backed up a step to shut the door. "I don't...I'm not..."

* * *

Lucius looked up from his book. A piercing cry of death sounded out, the alarms began to howl and his eyes caught sight of the most hideous creature he had ever seen roaming through the hallway with a spasming house-elf trapped in her beak. Long, scaly wings had sprouted from her shoulder blades that stretched taut and scraped the walls as she peered into each passing room. Fire rippled between her hands, passing from one to the other as one might toss a ball.

“Come out from ‘iding! You cannot ‘ide from me!” she screeched, dropping the stunned house-elf onto the floor.

* * *

The nauseating humming filled the ears of the three men sitting on the bed. Bellatrix backed into the room, watching Lucius running towards her. He was holding his granddaughter and waving her inside. Closing the door behind him as he stepped into the room, Lucius shoved Narcissa into Draco’s arms before pulling his wand out to dissipate the wards. “You’ve got to leave now. That Veela wife of yours is in the house and she’s not happy.”

Draco gasped with saucer-wide eyes. "She's coming! We have to save Cissy! We have to run!"

"I got this, Malfoy. Don't panic." Ron dissipated the conjured rope. "Make a portkey for us, Mr Malfoy!" he ordered as he wrapped an arm around his friend’s waist and backed him up against the wall, watching the elder Malfoy turn his shoe into a portkey.

"How did she get in? You told me this place was more secure than a vault inside Gringott's!" Draco shouted over the sirens at his father.

"It should be!" Lucius replied. He then cringed, understanding how the Veela got past the wards. "The protections are set to only allow certain persons past the gates. Besides nosey Aurors and Potter once I adjusted them to accept him, only Malfoys and relatives can enter...She's a relative; a Malfoy now by marriage."

Draco pulled his daughter in closer. That woman would never get her hands on her, not if he still had a breath left in him. He nudged Ron, who had Harry at his side. "You come with us."

Ron agreed. "Right."

Lucius rubbed his hands together briskly. “Now, everyone, on the count of three-”

“Not her, not you!” shouted Ron, jabbing his wand between the two Death Eaters.

Draco looked at his father and shrugged. "What he says."

Ron shook his head at them. “Both of you back away and make another portkey to someplace else. I’m warning you, Malfoy.” He glared back at Bellatrix. “And when I do see you again it will go very differently than now.”

Bellatrix grinned evilly. “Yes, we should continue on with that party we started back in the camps. You, me, the Dark Lord and that cute dirt-blooded wife of yours. I do miss that sweet little pussy. Good times.” She was licking the tips of her fingers and wagging her eyebrows, her huge eyes were wild.

Draco gaped at the woman. He turned back to Ron and threw his free hand out to stop his advancing. “We need to leave right now.”

Kicking off his other shoe, Lucius pointed his wand down at it. “ _Portus!_ ” With a sneer, he gestured down to it. “Happy, Weasley?”

“Overly.”

Bellatrix peered through a crack in the door. Her dark eyes lit up, reflecting the large fireball being hurled in her direction. “Oh gods, it’s coming!”

Ron whistled loudly through the screaming, signalling to Draco to be ready. He pointed his wand at Harry, whispered a simple apology, and stunned him unconscious. He hefted his sagging form up, then took Harry’s hand and held it over the Italian leather shoe. He tossed a wink at Draco when he was ready. He had Cissy’s hand in his. “Had to be sure he didn’t touch any of us and throw us off course. We have to be quick- You ready? On three. One, two, three!”

* * *

The moment they landed, Harry groaned out and began to stir. All three wizards and a tiny little witch looked the other over to be sure every one was accounted for. Harry eyes skimmed across the darkened room, seeing the sun rising through the massive bowed window adorning the eastern wall. “Wwwhere…er…” he stammered, finding it difficult to speak and try and stand at the same time.

The room was ornately decorated with the most exquisite whites and creams. Draco audibly gasped as he scanned around over the familiar setting. “This is my mother’s villa. This is where she would go to get away and make art. I love this place.”

“You all right, mate? Come on, sit down,” Ron said, guiding a very wobbly Boy-Who-Lived over to a chair.

“How d’ you plan on getting ‘mione out?” Harry asked him, struggling to not vomit. "I could...wwwell, not yet...I need a ddday or two to recover, then I'll be ready ttto help her." He paused for a moment to recover, admitting, "I feel terrible.”

"You need to rest." Ron looked hurt. He knitted his brow as he sat down beside him. “We’ll talk about 'mione later. At least you’re safe. I was pretty worried about you.”

Harry growled in frustration. The potion running through his system jumbled all coherent thought, making it impossible to focus energy on any one specific thing. “Merlin but this sssstuff does its job. I’ve got to…sssober up get out - find Marvvvolo and…help ‘mione. I don’t ca’ Umbridge sssays. I don’t ca’ who knows…tha’ I’m no’ dead-”

“Hey, you let me worry about that,” soothed Ron. He dropped a hand on Harry’s shoulder, giving it a pat. “I’ve got loads of resources to use, not to mention most of my family is somehow or another connected to the Ministry. I’ll have Hermione out by tomorrow, I’m almost certain. We’ll get your boy back in no time. Trust me, Harry, let me do this.”

Draco wandered around the parlour touching various objects, pointing to people in pictures and telling his daughter their names. He glanced back, watching Ron and Harry nestled intimately together on a settee. Something in his consciousness started cruelly jamming pins in his heart. "What the hell?"

Setting Cissy on her feet, he quickly swept over to the two to interrupt their private conversation with a simulated cough. Ron and Harry tipped their heads to look up at him. Draco glowered back at Ron, or more specifically at Ron’s hand, which was still resting on Harry’s shoulder. He gestured for him to stand in a tetchy manner. “C’mon, let’s get this Fidelius Charm over with so you can get the hell out of here.”

Ron rolled his eyes at him before turning back to Harry. “I meant what I said. You stay put, leave this to me. It’s no good risking your life again, okay? Not this soon. You don't have to be the hero this time.”

Draco scoffed, his hands began shaking. “Mhmm, as if I’d allow him run off doing something stupid. I’m in charge of him now - I call the shots on whether he stays or goes.”

Ron slowly turned back to Draco, with his hands balling up into fists at his sides. “Oh really, Malfoy? Who do you think you are, his mum? I am so close to knocking your teeth out. If you ever talk about him like he’s anything less than you- I fucking will.”

Draco feigned worry. “Oh, do please get over yourself. Harry needs someone to look after him now that Snape’s gone. Plus, there’s another matter that very much concerns me and only me, Weasley." He leaned in closer, so that their noses were ghosting the other. "Harry Potter’s with me now; don’t you ever put your hands on him again. You don’t know how delicate he is.”

Harry clutched the cushions of the settee. “Coul--n-not fight…? ‘mnot feeling wwwell. 'm really sick.”

Beyond listening to anything Harry was saying, Ron intensified his threatening posture, meeting Draco's towering height with his own. “Delicate? Harry Potter delicate? Do you know what he went through, Malfoy? Would you like to hear all the gory details about what your sweet little auntie and her master did to him every fucking day over seven years?” He stood up to meet Draco eye to eye.

“Ron, ssshut up!” Harry said in resentment, feeling his heart begin to pound somewhere close to his throat. He tried to stand.

Holding up a hand in front of Harry to back him down, Ron kept his eyes locked with Draco’s. “Nah, he needs to know what you did for these people while he sat back eating snails with a Veela while hiding like the great twat that he is!”

“Go ahead. He won’t talk about that. Tell me what he did,” hissed Draco, calling his bluff. He snorted like a bull through his nostrils. "Or don't; I'll get it out of him eventually."

Ron blanched. "Don't you dare make him do anything he doesn't want to do."

Draco laughed. “For the last time, Weasel, he's mine now. Oh, what is that I sense…a little jealousy? I can smell it all over you. It just burns you up, doesn’t it, how unfair life is. You got stuck with the Mudblood - I get to fuck the hero.”

Harry tried to stand again, but Ron shoved him back into the chair. “Sit the hell down!”

“You touched him again!” Draco shouted, feeling absolutely covetous. He glanced around the room for a weapon, always forgetting about his wand.

Ron took a deep breath to help him resist the urge to shove Draco’s nose up into his brain. He wanted to tell the rich brat all the sordid details of their seven years in the camps. How wonderful it would feel to watch his stringy hair curl up when he heard all the shit Harry endured to keep the others alive. But he wouldn’t. That wasn’t for him to tell. He had his own stories. He would leave that for Harry to decide whether he wanted anyone to know. “I can touch him if I want to; and not because I’m jealous of you or that I desire him, you mad cow. He’s my friend.”

“Oh, really. And I suppose you can perform the Parselmouth spell in order to do that - to touch him? Ah, right, you can’t. So shut the hell up and keep your sodding hands off him!”

“Calmmm dow’, Mmmmalfoy. Don’ talk to—Ron like that,” breathed Harry. His head was in a full-tilt swim. The threat of losing consciousness faded in and out every few seconds, making it very difficult to understand anything being said anymore. The shrieks were his only identifying markers, and Draco’s seemed to be the loudest. He was not certain what had been said about him, whether Ron had given away any of the nasty details of their pasts.

"It's alright, Har. He's all bark," Ron replied to his friend.

“I need a drink.” Draco said in defeat, and walked away.

Cissy edged over toward Harry and plopped down by his feet. She tugged on the hem of his pyjamas while her eyes followed her father’s movements around the bar across the room. Harry looked down her way.

“Where’s Marvo?” she asked through her continuous tugs. He pulled his sleeve down over his hand and ruffled her hair. It seemed that the effects of the potion were making him more than nauseous. He drew his arm back and slumped into the overstuffed settee to stay as still as possible while the waves settled.

“Hey, mate, I’m going to do the charm and get back to work. I’ll be in touch very soon.” Ron patted Harry’s shoulder as he glared back at Draco. “Don’t let him muck you about.”

Draco slammed his drink on the bar and stomped back towards them. “What the fuck did I just tell you about touching him?! There, you’ve made me say the F-word in front of my child. Happy now _?!”_

Ron charged at Draco and whirled him around in the opposite direction. “The Fidelius Charm, Malfoy.” He steered him toward the front door of the cottage.

Harry slumped back; a sea of sickness overwhelmed him. “Oh, gods… wait, Ron,” he whispered, unable to raise his voice any louder. Cissy continued to yank on his pyjamas. He groaned as the last of his vision darkened, his head lolled to his shoulder and his hands fell limp at his sides.

* * *

When Draco found him Ron was already gone, promising to return with a book on Fidelius Charms. The difficult spell failed to work the six times they attempted it. Ron was certain they had left something out.

Draco, at first, thought maybe Harry had fallen asleep on the sofa he found him unmoving on. It was difficult to tell just by glancing at him, until a closer inspection nearly stopped his heart. “ _Potter?!_ ” he cried, feeling his adrenaline prickle at his skin.

Cissy backed away as daddy waved her aside.

Draco knelt between his legs and pried his mouth open. He pressed his mouth over Harry’s lifeless lips, pinched his nostrils closed and heaved in a breath through his nose, then forced air into his lungs. He wasn’t breathing. There were no signs of life other than an occasional twitch. Draco smashed his ear against his chest, hearing nothing. “Oh fuck,” he said under a sharp breath as raw terror raced to his fingertips. Again, he breathed for Harry several times and waited. And again – there was nothing.

He grabbed him by the shirt and yanked him out of the chair. They fell in a heap on the floor. “C’mon, babe, wake up, talk to me,” he whimpered, smacking Harry's cheek with the tips of his fingers the moment he got him on his back on the floor. Harry was still unresponsive. Draco depressed his hands over his sternum, pumping his heart for him. He had to do something; he couldn’t lose Har- the potential child he might be carrying. "Come on, honey, come back to me. Come back...your son needs you--Cissy needs you!"

Frazzled, Draco blew more breath into Harry's lungs, filling them with his own ragged panting. “Where’s my fucking wand?! “ _Accio wand!_ ” His wand tore through the pocket of his trousers, flipped over his head and landed in his hand. His mind reeled as he strained to remember the incantation for a shock spell. He would shock him back to life –

“No, Malfoy, you don’t want to do that.” There was a freckled hand on his wrist and warm lips against his ear, whispering calm words to ease his hand back down. “Harry’s not dead, mate.” Ron smiled sadly, looking down at the cherubic face set so peacefully in stillness. "He's not dead, not dying."

“He’s not breathing, Weasley,” murmured Draco, feeling drained and helpless. “He stopped breathing…I tried to help, he’s just not responding. I tried…”

“He is breathing, it’s just very weak. Look there,” Ron said, pointing to Harry’s outstretched hand. “See? His fingers are twitching. Notice he’s not turning blue? I’ve seen this before. This happened the last time; he just sort of fainted and stopped responding to anything. I remember the Dark Lord throwing a massive fit. He nearly killed Snape outright, he thought he’d poisoned and murdered him, because this response didn’t happen to Neville when he experiemented on him. Eventually, Voldemort and his alchemists figured Harry was allergic to the reaction or something like that. That’s why Snape was made to do an Unbreakable Vow with Voldemort to protect Harry and the baby at all costs.”

“He was?” Draco looked at Ron clearly, studying his face and seeing the sincerity. He immediately brightened. “So what you’re saying is this isn’t poisoning? That potion Bella gave him didn’t cause this – This is the…the thing we did? We’ve completed the spell?”

Ron shuddered. “Er yeah, gods, I reckon. It took almost all of Harry's magic and strength to withstand the incubation period last time. His body treats it like an infection, but the healing curse keeps him living; it puts him in sort of a stasis until he can adapt, if I’m remembering right. It’s hard to be sure, I wish Snape were here to explain. We might as well move him; he’s not waking up any time soon.”

He knew just by feeling Draco tremble by his side that it had happened, and the man was in neck deep now. If he wasn’t aware of this process afflicting Harry, then he had no idea what changes were happening to his own body. “So you don’t know what’s going to happen?”

Draco lifted Harry up under his arms while Ron took hold of his ankles. “No, I assumed it would be like…er, you know, like a pregnancy or something.”

“Well, no, okay…Snape should have told you what to look for,” he said. He followed Draco’s movements, carrying Harry off into a lighted corridor.

Draco shoved the last door on the right open with his back and entered the room, gesturing to the large four poster bed placed intricately in the middle of the vivid pink decor. They rested Harry down and Draco moved around to begin removing his clothing – then froze. “What are you- Don’t touch him,” he breathed, adjusting to the icy chill setting frost over his spine. Ron looked up with a lopsided grin and dropped his hands away from his best friend. Draco shuddered with…something. He wasn’t really sure how he felt. “How many times do I have to say it, Weasel? Harry is not to be touched by you, please control yourself.”

“I was helping you carry him in here, prat. Kind of have to touch him to do that.” Ron snorted. “Mr. Malfoy or Snape really should have explained to you what changes were going to happen to you, too.”

“Me? Why would anything change about me?” Draco began jovially humming as he untied and shimmied off Harry’s pyjama bottoms – until another chilly thump to his heart swept over him. His narrow eyes trailed from the bed suspiciously back to Ron. He grabbed a sheet and pulled it over Harry’s form to shelter him from the redhead’s errant gaze. “Could you please turn your head, Weasley? Can’t you see he’s indecent?”

Ron straightened up, stifling a chuckle behind his hand. “Yeah, I’ve seen all of this before, too. Possessive, motherly, won’t let anyone else look at him, touch him. Congratulations, Malfoy,” he said, holding out his hand. “You’re definitely going to be a father again. How many children does that make for you now- thirty? You must be so proud; you’ve more than doubly outdone me mum.”

Draco chose to ignore the insult and shook his hand, his eyes glued with worry on Harry. He leaned in and adjusted the sheet and then swept a lock of ebony hair from his eyes, tucking it behind his ear. The concerned, lovesick expression on his face made Ron want to stick his finger down his throat.

“Merlin, he looks so beautiful, doesn’t he? So at peace like this. You really think it worked?”

With a laughing cringe, Ron gave him a nod. “Yeah, that face you’re making pretty much confirms it. There’s a sort of an affinity between you now, a protective bond so you will care for him, so you won't hurt him or kill him." He held up a hand when Draco began to object. "Let me explain. When we were in the camps Lord Voldemort suddenly got all mushy for Harry, like he cared suddenly about him. He grew quite possessive, and had him moved into his manor, taken away from us. And if any of us looked at him when we were allowed to visit him, well…he’d accuse us of what you’re doing right now. It does greatly lessen over time and you will grow accustomed to others being near him, but it will be there for the duration.” Ron squared his shoulders and rubbed his chin, fighting to remember what he tried so hard to forget. “I think the protection part of the curse was mostly put in place to keep the Dark Lord from hurting him too much. For the first year or so, you see, Harry was his favourite punching bag. And I’m sure he didn’t want a repeat of what happened to the other one.”

Narcissa stood by the bed and tugged on the frilly pink dust ruffle while she pointed at the man she growing very much in love with. “Hug daddy?”

"Hon, he's sleeping right now," Draco replied, giving his child a sad smile.

“She calls Harry ‘Daddy’?” Ron’s eyebrows shot up questioningly.

Draco smirked as he lifted Narcissa up into his arms. “Did you get the book?”

“Right,” he said, rifling through his cloak. It took a lot to swallow down, standing there next to his best friend who had been used like a bitch in heat for nefarious purposes. A Malfoy always gets what he wants and today was no minor exception. Never in his life had Ron imagined he’d allow this union, this disgusting bribery to actually take place. But he knew he would not have talked Harry out of it; he was still too much of a goddamn hero. “We’ll get this going then. I have to get back.”

Back to Hermione. Poor, sweet, innocent Hermione and her righteous crusade to rid the world of discrimination was now being accused of attempted murder. She suffered far greater than Ron; even as the blood-traitor that he was; at least, to them, he was pure. But she would survive for a while in Azkaban, at least physically. She had a gift like Harry. A spell they had tested on her before cursing the Golden Boy with it to be sure it worked properly. The Healing Curse – The third curse, and in Ron’s eyes the most interesting.

“Did you know,” Ron broke from his reverie to speak openly to the man in front of him, “Harry cannot be permanently injured unless he’s outright killed?”

Draco shrugged unknowingly. “What do you mean?”

“Watch this. Er, and try and restrain yourself, Malfoy. I’m not really hurting him,” said Ron, taking his wand out of his cloak. He held the tip of his wand against Harry’s wrist and whispered the word “ _Diffindo!_ ”. A razor-thin tear appeared across the pale skin slashed in red. Blood leaked and oozed across his wrist and Draco held his breath to fight off the injustice hammering at his brain.

“Oho! What are you doing?!” Draco set Narcissa down and stepped forward, wand at his hip.

Ron held out a hand to stop him. “Give it a minute, mate.” Dabbing the cuff of his shirt on his tongue, Ron reached down and swiped the blood off of Harry’s wrist. The wound was gone. “You see? It’s a curse they gave him, although it sounds very much not like a curse. This one prevented him from killing himself or aborting the foetus back in the camps. It’s mainly used to keep him alive because this baby curse is going to tear him up. The Dark Lord did not want to take any chances after what happened with Neville.”

“Cissy, go play in the parlour,” ordered Draco, whisking his hand toward the door. He looked back at Ron, grimacing. “What happened with Longbottom?”

“Ugh, he tried to off himself,” murmured Ron. He walked over to the side of the bed and sat down to rub the sting from his eyes. “Not to mention Voldemort was horrible to Neville. Tortured him all the time. The baby came out wrong in the head. They progressed his age and it looked just like Lord Voldemort once it was an adult but he couldn’t transfer his memories to it. It couldn’t speak the snake language, either.”

Draco tipped his head. “I thought he was all young again, why would he want to take another’s body?”

“Power, pure and simple. He could never have enough. His ultimate goal was to become Marvolo, a perfect blend of himself and Harry, combining Parsel and Love magics. Then he would be the most powerful wizard in the world.” Ron felt like spitting. His mouth tasted awful. “Neville’s boy is still out there, hellbent on serving his master. He’s hunting Harry.”

* * *

“…well he’s been breathing normally for three days and he opened his eyes last night. Er, no, they weren’t focused. He didn’t speak, no. How much longer will it be, I’m getting worried.”

“Daddy, daddy, daddy's up!” Narcissa tugged on her father’s shirt rhythmically for nearly a minute. He was on his hands and knees, head completely inside the fireplace, deep in conversation. She turned back around and grabbed the hem of her gown with one hand, and waved awkwardly with the other. “Hi daddy.”

Harry rolled onto his side and rubbed his face, caressing the inside corners of his almond-shaped eyes to remove the abundance of sleep that had crusted up inside. His hands trembled as he braced himself to stand. “Step back, sweetheart,” he croaked and cringed at the cracked squeak of his voice.

“Father, I have to go!” Draco whirled around with his wand drawn, hissing the Parseltongue incantation and scooping Harry up as he plummeted to the floor. “What the hell are you doing? You could have been hurt.” As upset as he might have wanted to be; his eyes lit up and his lips curled into a wondrous grin. “Welcome back, Harry.”

“Need the loo badly, sick,” Harry mumbled. He braced himself on the edge of the bed and stumbled around for a moment, uncertainty fogging his blurred vision. Draco came up beside him and steered him toward the opposite side of the room. “Where are we?”

“This is my mother’s villa. It was a studio more than a home, really, but it’s got everything,” said Draco. He stood outside of the bathroom against the wall and released a great sigh of relief. Harry appeared healthy and very awake. “You don’t remember us arriving here, do you?”

“Er, one moment please,” he said from the toilet. Draco tensed up, hearing the sounds of a fit of gagging and coughing. After a minute or so, he spoke again. “No. But I do remember something. Maybe I didn’t know it before but it’s very clear now.”

“And what’s that?”

The sink came on and Draco waited for a response for a moment. Harry stepped out and leaned up on the opposite side facing the tall blond, looking pale and drained and yet so god-damned determined. “Your father has my son and I want him back.”

* * *

Lucius Malfoy stepped into the room and brushed the ash from his clothes. He said nothing, merely fidgeted with the cuff of his sleeve while Draco cleared off an armchair for him to sit. Harry was standing across the room, arms folded over his chest looking stormy-eyed and brooding under the overgrown black fringe obscuring part of his face.

“Afternoon, Potter, thanks for inviting me in. Glad to hear you’ve recovered nicely. I take it that, um yeah. So you and Draco believe the experiment, the spell took?” Lucius rested down into the overstuffed velvet seat and placed his cane at the side of the chair; his hand never leaving its hilt. “Is there a way to confirm this? Draco, perhaps I could trouble you for a cuppa?”

“We’ll skip the tea,” said Harry, his focus shifting to Draco to keep him in place.

“Right,” murmured Lucius. His expression hardened, as if preparing for something he hadn’t thought coming until that moment.

“We believe it’s worked. We can’t confirm it until we find Snape though,” said Draco, glancing back at Harry. “Harry’s third curse seems to have awoken it or whatever the fuck you want to call it. I mean, it was always there in some small way, but after the uh… thing happened, it somehow, ugh. I don’t know what the hell I’m saying. The healing curse, Harry? Is that what it was?”

Neither Malfoy seemed to be overly accepting or outright open about the _thing_ they were talking about. It was probably the least masculine conversation either of them had ever had. The comfort factor in the room plummeted down to a big, fat zero.

“Mhmm,” hummed Harry. He didn’t seem too terribly uncomfortable, instead his expression seemed set in stone. His focus was directed at the older Malfoy.

Lucius’s eyes brightened. He thumbed through the pages of his mind, attempting to recall the information he had been given on Potter’s ailments. “Yes, a healing curse, ingenious. Helps you along. Am I correct?”

“You could say that,” said Harry.

“And it remains intact along with the other two curses as long as your son stays living,” added Lucius, his eyes glinting with malice.

“Come again?” said Draco.

Lucius chuckled, but Harry glared at him. “Technically, his son is the originator of the curses. Voldemort never truly died when Harry killed him, you see? That much I do know.”

Harry shifted uneasily in his spot. “You’ve certainly done your research, Mr. Malfoy. Oddly enough, there are only two people left alive having that knowledge you’ve obtained, and I’m one of them.”

“I have my ways,” he replied coolly.

With a smirk, Harry tipped his head coolly. “And you know as well as I do Snape would never abandon me. He cannot, you see, even if he wanted to. He is under magical vow to stay at my side and keep me and Marvolo alive until Marvolo’s age can be progressed and his memories returned to him.”

Lucius faked surprise. “Is that so?”

Taking a threatening step forward, Harry heaved in a deep-heated breath. “That’s so. Where is he?”

“I am not at liberty to say. I do know, however, that you do not desire the return of Voldemort no matter how madly you fell in love with him. Did you mention that to Draco? Did you tell my son about the great Dark Lord’s return to power so he could fuck you with your son’s body? He planned on reclaiming you as his whore, keeping you young and pretty with that healing curse in place!”

“You remember things funny, Malfoy. Think back now, I was being held there _against_ my will as opposed to you. You, who served him until he got angry with you because you and the wifey wouldn’t tell him where you hid your son. So you ran away and took all of his paperwork with you and turned evidence against him to save your arse… again.”

“Stop it!” shouted Draco, growing very wary of his father’s raised voice toward Harry. “It doesn’t matter. It’s never going to happen. Lord Voldemort will not return.”

Lucius bared his teeth in fury, still staring at Harry. “You had a chance! You could have killed the child at birth!”

Harry pushed off from the wall and stepped in front of the chair. “Tell me where they are,” he demanded. Lucius slipped his wand from its scabbard and held it up aggressively. Harry snorted. “Is that supposed to frighten me? Tell me where you’ve hidden them.”

Draco placed a hand on Lucius’s shoulder, giving it a rough squeeze. “Father, if you know where the boy is please tell us,” he hissed, trying to remain calm.

Lucius turned away. Clearly, he was not proud of what he’d done. “He has to be protected. He must stay with Snape. If anything happened to him the three curses would terminate and the baby would die - and you along with it, Draco. The baby will die and you will die because you gave him a fucking Unbreakable Vow.” He focused back on Harry, furious. “You’ve cursed my son, Potter. You talked him into this out of his sheer desperation. Your boy stays hidden until the baby is born.”

“You don’t think I can protect my own child?” hissed Harry.

“To be honest, it’s not you I worry about. I don’t think it wise that the boy be near Draco. No doubt the wheels have been turning in his head over this vow he’s made with you,” he growled. “He’ll kill him after the baby is born, completing the vow.”

Harry was bowled over by the comment. He looked at Draco, who was furiously shaking his head back at him. “You know I would never. I can’t believe you’d even consider anything this old fool is saying, Harry.”

“Draco is a loving parent, and he also possesses a conscience - unlike you.” Lucius opened his mouth but Harry put his hand up to silence him. “Nice try,” he said, “but it’s not Draco who has everything to gain by murdering him, is it? It’s you.”

Lucius smiled. He lowered his wand. “You’re not as thick as you look, Potter. I appreciate that in a hero. So, tell me, boy,” he said. His eyes narrowed in disdain while he unconsciously rubbed small circles over the tattoo on his forearm. “How did you figure this out so quickly?”

“I know a lot more than you think, Mr Malfoy." Harry smiled darkly. His head lowered, shadowing his eyes. "Near the end, before I killed him, your master had a lot to say about loads of different topics that were slowly driving him mad. He confided in me, and only me, he trusted no one else; not even Bellatrix. And he loved talking about you. To be frank," Harry added, finding himself enjoying watching the elder Malfoy turn several odd shades of green. "I would get him off while he talked about what he had planned for you, and he always came when he got to the part that involved him letting the werewolves tear you to pieces so he could watch your heart stop beating in his bare hand...he _always_ came then."

"Harry," Draco whispered, awestruck.

There was a slight look of astonishment in the elder Malfoy’s expression as he considered what was being said. “My loyalty to my master-”

“Your loyalty to him has always been to benefit you,” Harry interrupted, looking sinisterly entertained. He let the residual darkness of Lord Voldemort speak for him, knowing there was no greater villain than he. “And he knew this very well. He will never forgive you once his memories are replaced. You know that. And I know that - because he promised me a front row seat for the Malfoy Show." He gestured of Draco for a moment. "And he's gonna do your boy that way, too, just like he did to your wife.”

Lucius went pale. “It is a conundrum that we face, is it not?”

Harry was no longer amused. Several knickknacks and pictures adorning the room clinked and shifted noisily, his wild magic threatening to burst. “No, it's very simple, Malfoy - give Marvolo back to me. Do you honestly think I would allow Lord Voldemort’s memories to be restored to him? I have worked tirelessly from the moment he was born to prevent this! Half of his soul is MINE! _HE IS MINE!”_

A chachki shattered inside one of the curio cabinets framing the east wall. Draco ran to clear the smoke. The elder Malfoy lurched back. “But Snape. He’s been cursed to protect him, to keep him safe _and_ to return the memories back into his head once he’s matured enough to handle them. You said it yourself! What are you going to do about that?”

Harry clicked his tongue, waiting for him to finish. “Snape’s problem can be dealt with. We’ve been working together on a cure. Marvolo is barely four years old, he will not be mature until his seventeenth birthday. We have no plans on accelerating his age at any time, Malfoy, that wasn’t part of the vow. I think we can put that one out of this conundrum for a short while.”

Lucius hitched a thumb at Draco as if he were diseased. “And what about him? You honestly trust this drunken coward to reside by the only thing that stands between him and freedom from the vow?”

Draco’s jaw dropped.

“Yes, I do,” said Harry.

Lucius regarded him for a long moment, ignoring the slur of threatening words his son was spitting at him. Finally, with a slight grin he stood up nose to nose with Harry. “I’ll hold you to that. I have nothing to gain and everything to lose if he returns. I am not, no matter how deceiving appearances may be, a Death Eater.”

“I know that, Mr. Malfoy. And I do hope no harm has come to Severus Snape. Without him, no matter how deceiving appearances may be,” he mocked, giving the man a very warning look, “Marvolo will become Lord Voldemort. If you’ve harmed either of them I will tear out all of your hair and feed it to you.”

With a weak smile, Lucius gathered his cloak and cane up and stepped back to return to the fireplace. “I will consider the return of the boy when I am sure there are proper wards placed upon this villa. He is-”

“Don’t you move,” warned Harry. “He will be returned to me right now.”

Lucius shook his head without looking at him. “I must go. There is plenty of time to talk about this later. I said I would consider returning him if we can come to some sort of understanding.”

Harry inhaled a deep breath through his nose. His lips parted and Draco instantly felt the residual energies around him begin to crackle with electricity. He reached to touch it; his mind questioning its origin while his ears pricked at the single word uttered so hatefully in the room.

“ _Imperio!_ ”

After standing in amazement for nearly a minute, Draco edged up beside Harry and nudged his arm. He was not sure whether he should speak too quickly; the air was crackling with a power he had never felt in the presence of any wizard or witch before. It was daunting, realising the man he had acquainted himself with held a formidable strength of such heights he would never know.

To cast an Unforgivable you have to really want it, to hate, to feel its pain and enjoy it. This was something he had not believed Harry could wield under any circumstance. He, himself, had used the curse in the past and it was sheer terror that powered it, knowing that his parents would suffer and die by the hand of the Dark Lord if he failed. It was not an easy curse to have to deal with. Its strength alone, the power to control another being with your mind to make them do anything you wanted, made it so frightening. He wanted to protest. This was his father after all, the man who raised him and kept him safe; the man who just threw the blame at him and accused him of plotting murder against a child to benefit himself when he realised Harry wasn’t an idiot. In hindsight, it felt pretty damn good to see him get a taste of his own medicine.

“What exactly are you planning on doing, Harry?”

Looking slightly perturbed, Harry rubbed his chin with one hand while holding the right one up just so while he probed the elder Mafoy’s mind to glean information from it. His index finger would occasionally flick, as if turning the pages in a book. “It’s not your worry, Malfoy. If you don’t want to watch, I suggest you remove yourself from the room. I’m going to get my son and Severus and bring them here. Your father is going to help me,” he said softly, showing no hint of emotion.

Still in a daze, Draco hashed over the thoughts that might be going through Harry’s mind. He imagined this was how Harry felt all those years back, hearing the story told by his father on a visit to Azkaban that the boy was absolutely clueless about anything the Order of the Phoenix had planned for him. They had used him the way the Dark Lord used him, keeping him innocent of knowledge and therefore docile. But that was a long time ago. He was definitely not innocent or docile anymore. “What do you know about their location?”

“They’re in a home, in a basement,” said Harry flatly. “There’s a slight problem though… He’s the Secret Keeper to that location. I cannot force him to reveal it. I can, however, force him to choke on his own goddamn wand.”

Lucius stood entranced, unmoving despite his awkward posture. His light grey eyes had lost their wicked flicker. He almost appeared at peace for once, standing firmly by the armchair with a silly smile perched upon his thin lips.

Draco leaned in, nuzzling his nose in Harry’s hair. He slipped his arms around him, pulling him into his embrace. It was a delicious revenge. “Why don’t you just make him bring them to us?”

Harry gasped lightly. He turned to face him. “That’s right, they’re not staying there willingly. You’re brilliant,” he said, and glanced back at the elder blond and dropped his hand. “ _Go get my son and Snape, Mr. Malfoy._ ”

With a nod, Lucius walked to the fireplace and gripped a handful of floo powder. Harry stepped up to him aggressively, taking his arm. “ _Send my son through first, straight away. Do you understand?_ ”

“Yes, of course,” said Lucius. He tossed the powder into the fire pit and disappeared.

“He was hoping to keep me drugged up in your cellar and planned to kill Marvolo once he got his hands on the baby,” said Harry, frowning. “Lucky for us Ron was so prompt. You can thank him later.”

Draco grimaced. “And what my father said about-”

Harry stopped him. “Everything you father said was true. Voldemort had planned on returning quickly and forcing me and Snape to serve him, but we won that battle.”

“And he’s vowed like we are, but to Voldemort? It remains intact because Marvolo is carrying Voldemort’s soul?”

Harry nodded. “Just a bit of his soul. The last shrivelled up bit left inside him when I killed him. It’s a long story.”

“As I said,” said Draco, brushing the hair from Harry’s eyes. Perhaps Ron was right and he did feel compelled to protect him. In all honesty he was certain he could restrain the desire. He was attracted to Harry, very attracted, and it had begun some time well before conception. “I’m here now. I won’t let anything happen to you or Marvolo.” He meant it.

Harry smiled, feeling his cheeks grow rosy. “Thanks, Malfoy.”

* * *

 

Draco stood anxiously by the fireplace with Harry, downing a Black Devil. “Get your wand ready, I want to hold him,” said Harry excitedly, fidgeting in place. He looked radiant, full of life, more attractive than Draco had ever seen him. His light green eyes darted around the area as he listened closely to every tiny sound settling around the room. He would certainly have to shag him tonight. There was no other way around it.

The fireplace blazed forth, green flames exploded and licked the hearthstone as the form of a child plummeted and landed on the ground. Draco hissed the spell as Harry bent forward, scooping the small boy up into his arms and hugged him.

“Hey you,” soothed Harry as he walked to the closest chair and sat heavily into it. He held Marvolo up to look him over. The boy sniffled in confusion before wrapping his arms around his father’s neck. He looked healthy and clean and incredibly sleepy. “Have you eaten? Is Snape well?”

“We really missed you, daddy. I was so worried they’d killed you. They told me you were in danger,” whispered the boy into his father’s ear. Harry choked back a sob as he cuddled him.

“I missed you too, love. I’ll never let anyone take you away again. I promise.”

It took nearly twenty minutes before the fireplace roared to life once more. Severus Snape stepped into the sitting room with a smirk set hard on his lips. Marvolo had long since fallen asleep in Harry’s arms. “What took you so long?” was all he had said as he hoisted his meagre belongings up and glanced around the room.

“Oh, you know, the usual; Death Eaters setting the house on fire, kidnapping, potion-induced-dementia, a week-long coma,” murmured Harry, returning the smirk. “You look well.”

Snape looked as if he’d been beaten with a muddy stick over the last week. The circles under his eyes were black, his clothing filthy and torn. His hair had matted tangles in it, causing it to stand up in strange angles. “It seems Bellatrix Lestrange still holds a grudge over my disloyalty to her master,” mocked Snape. “Where can I lie down?”

“Oh, yes, sorry,” said Draco.

Harry stood up cradling his son. “I’ll put Marvolo in with Cissy. Quite tired myself,” he murmured, following the two men into the hallway. “We’ve got a big day tomorrow, getting back to normal in a new place.”

Draco glanced back at him as he entered the child’s bedroom, his eyes fixed on the lovely curve of Harry’s arse. He swirled his drink around in the glass as he pointed out the last door on the right to Severus. “Take that room. I won’t need it tonight.”

“I hope there’s running water in here. Good evening, Malfoy.” Severus retreated inside and closed the door. Draco leaned against the wall in wait.

Harry emerged a moment later. “The counter-spell wore off. I could feel it this time. That’s good, I’ll be better prepared for next time.”

“That’s wonderful,” droned Draco. He finished his drink and cocked an eyebrow at the man. “Off to bed then?”

“Yeah,” said Harry, faking a yawn in response to the lustful look in Draco’s eyes, “Night, Malfoy.”

“So,” Draco said, following him into the master bedroom. “There’s been this thing mulling around in my head all week. I’ve had a lot of time to think on it while I took care of you.”

“While you took care of me?” Harry tossed him a curious look.

Draco came up to him and grabbed him around the waist.

Harry could smell the heady scent of sweet rum on his breath and the sizzling lust in his sweat. “Whoa there, big boy. You’re the one who caused it to happen or have you forgotten?”

Ignoring him, Draco swept the hair out of Harry’s eyes, wrapping his arm tighter as he clenched up from the brief skin contact.

“Don’t,” Harry hissed. He brought his hands to the blond’s shoulders, keeping him at a slight distance.

Draco refused to budge. “Don’t what— Don't touch you? No, that’s how this works.”

Harry snarled. “Let me go.”

"No can do, babe." Draco felt him shiver in his arms. “I’ve got this theory,” he said. “You want this as much as I do, you’re just too bloody proper to admit you want to fuck a Death Eater.”

“You weren’t a Death Eater,” said Harry, scowling.

“I served under the Dark Lord once, you know that. Admit it; you think you’re better than me.” He held on, lacing his fingers together at the small of Harry’s back. “Stop acting like we don’t have something going on here. You want me, Harry, in the worst way. I can see it, smell it, read it in your eyes. Now, I’m going to make love to you. Show you how it’s really done,” Draco whispered, as if the words were something Harry might melt into. Instead, he pushed him away.

“You can’t be serious,” Harry said, trying to back out of his arms.

Draco held on tighter. “I am deadly serious. Now that we completed the spell you’re going to play hard to get because you feel guilty about fancying me. I’m not daft, Potter.”

Harry gaped at him. “That’s ridiculous. I do not fancy you.”

Draco barked with laughter. “Liar. I also think you’re holding back about the way you’re able to have sex without the counter-curse.”

Harry was still sneering at him but there was something else behind his eyes; a spark of arousal. He’d never admit that, though. “Already told you that’s none of your business.”

Draco shrugged indifferently. “Then I’ll have to test my theory out on you. Get on the bed. Get naked.” He gave Harry a rough shove backwards.

The Golden Boy struggled to not show any excitement, despite how giddy he had become. He needed to put up a bit more fight so Draco didn't realize that he was right; that Harry wanted this as much as he did. “You think I’ll let that happen willingly?”

“Willing? Probably not at first, no. You’ll have to be tied up for sure, possibly gagged, completely subdued before I’ll know for certain. Lucky for you I’m very into that sort of thing and cannot wait another minute to try this.” He began rifling through the vanity beside him and smiled toothily. “This’ll do.” He tossed a jar of hand lotion on the bed and gave Harry a wink.

“Right, I’m ready to be subdued now,” Harry mumbled, walking to the door. “Out.” He threw the door open. It was slammed shut. The tip of a wand was tapping over his shoulder. Harry sighed, looking at it for a moment before turning to face Draco. “Really?” He pointed to himself, smirking. “Wandless Unforgivables, remember?” He drew his thumb across his throat. “Your pathetic life, over.”

“Empty threat. Move,” ordered Draco, shoving Harry back into the middle of the room. He whisked his wand to the right, gesturing to the large four poster pink-nightmare-of-a-bed. “Everything off or I’ll remove them for you. This is your last warning.”

Harry rolled his eyes and dropped down on the edge of the bed to watch Draco undress. "You first, Death Eater."

“Stop mulling around, Saint Potter, I can see how badly you _don’t_ want this,” Draco jested, his wand tip now mockingly pointed down toward the crotch of Harry’s jeans. He was clearly a bit more aroused than he was letting on.

“Oh fuck off, Malfoy,” Harry retorted. He crossed his legs and looked off to the depths of the room, pretending he wasn’t bothered.

“No, no, fuck _you_ , Potter,” corrected Draco. “You’re fucking dying for me to climb on top of you and hold you down and take you.”

Harry opened his mouth to protest but closed it with a snort. Malfoy was right, of course: Draco’s coming on to him so aggressively was like a drug. “Well, if that’s the way you want to be,” he said, standing. He unbuttoned and unzipped his jeans and shoved them down to his knees. “Happy?” he said through a crazed smile.

“Not until you’ve gotten to the bed.” Draco kept his wand out whilst undressing himself, his eyes never leaving Harry for a moment.

Harry watched the man cross the room to rest on the edge of the bed as if he hadn’t a care in the world. Harry was still wearing a linen shirt and his knickers. He ran his fingers along the satiny texture of the quilted bedclothes, all the while shaking his head in simulated disbelief. “This is ridiculous.”

“Put your hands behind your back,” Draco ordered, crossing to meet his gaze. Harry removed his glasses and looked around the room, ignoring Draco’s request. Insulted, Draco grabbed his glasses and tossed them behind him. Harry gasped, hearing them smack against the wall and hit the floor.

The blond shoved him into the bed and forced him onto his stomach, deliberately touching his skin to shock him, feeling him seize up from the contact. He wrenched his hands behind him, holding his wand in his teeth until he could gain a good hold on both wrists with one hand. “I remembered something, the first time we touched – _Incarcerous!_ ” A thin rope appeared around Harry’s wrists binding them together.

Draco backed away, allowing him time to recover. “I believe perhaps that due to humiliation or some sort of moral fibre, you felt it not necessary to go into any detail about your sex life in the camps.” He paused for a second as Harry growled audibly and fought to free himself. “And I can understand and respect that. You don’t want anyone to know that part of your past… what happened to you. But I think it’s time you get over this guilt you have over enjoying it. Start feeling good about yourself, about sex. It’s not meant to be a bad thing; it’s a very, very good thing. You just don’t know it any other way. I intend to change that.”

Harry said nothing. He watched as Draco climbed onto the bed and sat on his haunches in front of him. He felt helpless, lying on his side next to a man pointing a wand at him and eyeing his knickers. Without warning, Draco reached out and ripped them as much as he could with one hand, tearing the thin cotton material away from his hip. Harry recoiled. “What are you doing?” he hissed.

Draco smirked. “Ooh, scared, Potty? I’m not going to hurt you. Don’t be afraid of little old me.”

“Shove off, Malfoy. I’m not afraid of you,” Harry spat back.

“Look,” Draco said and tossed his wand across the room. He swept the hair from his eyes and yanked Harry up to his knees by his shirt. He ripped it open, sending tiny buttons scattering off into the bedding. They sat kneeling in front of each other, both out of breath, trembling and completely aroused. “This theory involves a bit of roughhousing, mostly on your part. I just wanted to get mine in before you beat the hell out of me,” he said, leering at him. His cocky schoolboy expression returned. “But if you keep this mock protest up I’m going to ball them knickers up and shove them in your mouth. Now get ready, brace yourself, Golden Boy, I’m gonna make you beg for it.” He lunged forward and shoved Harry onto his back.

The surge of power rushed back through Harry, straining every muscle in his body. He shrieked out. Draco clamped a hand over his mouth as he latched his lips onto Harry’s neck. “ _Shh_ , here’s my theory,” he whispered between small laps over the skin, tasting and nipping the taut flesh. “I think my father had a point when he mentioned your ‘romance’ in the camps. That old Dark Lord, while enjoying the struggle initially, didn’t have the physical strength to fight you off the whole time. There must be a breaking point. I think after a while you’re going to relax and enjoy what I’m going to do to you.”

Twisting at his wrists behind him, thrashing hard with a strength Draco had underestimated, Harry shoved upward to throw his rival off-balance, splitting his lip. “Oh, you don’t like that, hmm? Not accustomed to being dominated by me? Ickle Potty’s always got to be in control, always calling the shots,” he taunted, shoving Harry deeper into the mattress. He pinned him under his body. With great effort, he hooked his heels under Harry’s thighs and sat up, holding him down. Cloudy-eyed and distant, Harry snapped his teeth at him, lunging, threatening to bite whenever he got too close. Draco calmly depressed his hand back over his mouth, forcing his head deep into the pillows. “C’mon, fight this off, scarhead.”

Their contact was far greater than Harry had experienced in years without the Parselmouth spell keeping his temper from soaring or his muscles from contracting to the breaking point. He screamed under Draco’s hand, an ear-piercing shriek that hammered in the blond’s eardrums despite being partially muffled. For a brief moment Draco considered he might have made a grave mistake. Harry had not responded sexually in the least. He, in fact, looked like he might snap his magical bonds and Draco’s neck before he could stop him.

It was not possible that Voldemort had been strong enough to wrestle this man into a bed and hold him down long enough to take him. He knew there had to be a breaking point, something that would happen to sway his frenzied mind. Harry pushed up abruptly, his forehead colliding with Draco’s mouth. Draco, in turn, grabbed Harry by his throat and shoved him back, touching his own lips with his free hand. Warm blood coated his fingertips and oozed into his mouth. He snarled. “How does it feel? Hey, you pathetic wanker, look at me! Remember when I smashed your nose in? Or all those times I’d taunt that frizzy little Mudblood and make her cry? Oh, isn’t it ironic now? Look at you, unable to do a fucking thing about it. You’ve got no parents, you were raised by Muggles. You’ve got nothing. I’ve got you.”

As if he’d hit him, Harry froze for a brief moment, mesmerised by a thick dollop of blood jiggling under Draco’s chin. His glazed look grew clearer, his eyes focused on the man sitting on top of him. Draco’s expression brightened, and then darkened. His bloody teeth clenched. “In our fifth year, I wanted Umbridge to kill you. I prayed she’d murder you and Granger in the forest when she took you out there,” he said solemnly as he loomed menacingly over Harry’s trembling form.

Rage filled every pore of Harry’s being. “Talking about your precious High Inquisitor again? Can’t get her out of your mind, can you?” He could not help himself and he could not move to strike. He lost focus and screamed in frustration until the ex-Slytherin put his hands around his throat.

Draco tightened his grip, choking him. “Yeah, shut up.” He watched Harry struggle to breathe for a moment, curious as to what he might do once he released him. He had the hero in his clutches, the saint everyone worshipped so easily at his will. He snickered evilly. “Had enough yet?” He pulled his hands back and ran his tongue across his teeth, the sight of The-Boy-Who-Lived panting and gasping for air was seriously making him hard.

Harry coughed and went lax for a moment to recover. His eyes opened again, still green. He smiled madly up at his captor. “Untie me and try that again, you twitchy fucking ferret.”

Draco’s expression lit with interest. “Ooh, you liked it. Your eyes are so clear,” he teased. He closed his fingers around a handful of hair, wrenching Harry’s head to his shoulder. And again, his captive’s muscles relaxed momentarily as the blond controlled his actions. Harry took several deeps breaths. Draco would have patted his own back if he had a free hand. “Yeah, I knew it. Gods, I’m a genius.”

It was no easy manoeuvring, holding Harry down beneath him while keeping himself poised enough to start thinking about how amazing the sex was going to be. “Open your eyes, let me see you,” he breathed. He began rocking over him. Harry looked up at him, his eyes so brightly green it gave Draco a start. He grinned, leaning down, putting a little kiss on his lips while he slipped a hand between their abdomens. “You’re gorgeous,” he whispered, massaging their trapped cocks together. “So fucking hot lying there all tied up and breathless.”

Harry sighed in pain and desire. Every muscle in his body ached and quivered from the touch.

“C’mon, Potter, look at me. Show me you want this,” whispered Draco. Harry bared his teeth for a moment before feeling the pleasure overwhelm the anger. He gave him a slight nod and shoved himself up on his elbows. His eyes were clear, his mind centring into focus. “That’s right, love,” the blond said through a deep exhale, thrilled beyond expectation.

Draco spun the lid off of the jar of lotion and dipped his fingers inside. “Now we’re getting somewhere, Potter. I need you to stay with me, fight this curse back. Do you understand?”

"I can't...it's too strong." Harry’s eyes closed again, he shook madly to remain calm. He threw his head back and screamed, feeling his spine straining to snap.

“Yes you can!” Draco blurted out, gripping Harry's jaw like a vice. “Open your fucking eyes and look at me, orphan!”

Harry banged his head against the bedstead in frustration. He wasn’t sure how long he could handle the immense pressure willing his body to lash out. He growled lowly, letting it build and grow in his throat as he scowled at the man sitting on top of him.

"You want more pain? Is this what you want? "Draco drew a hand back.

Harry was sure he would hit him. He froze.

Draco sat motionless for a second, his hand gooey and suspended in the air. He had wanted to slap him, it had definitely crossed his mind. “I know what’ll bring you back and it’s not slugging you. Relax,” he said softly. His hand slid effortlessly between them again. He leaned in once more with a Cheshire cat smile. “Do I need to keep taunting you?” He shifted between Harry’s thighs, increasing the pressure between them. “Because as much as I enjoy it, I’d rather be doing something else with my mouth.”

Harry shook his head. "No, no more taunting."

Draco pinched the skin on Harry's inner thigh, making him yelp. “Then look at me, beautiful. Was my theory right? He would bring you to this state and you enjoyed sex with him, and you feel terrible about that. Am I right?”

Harry cringed. His eyes were now locked with Draco’s, clear and green. He looked very guilty. "I don't remember."

“Am I?”

Harry closed his eyes again and turned away.

Draco pinched him again. “Answer me.”

The shock of pain caused Harry to gasp. “Fuck, I hate you, Malfoy."

"Just tell me I'm right and we'll move on from this," Draco informed him. "Say 'yes'."

With a heated intake of breath, Harry relented. "Yes.”

“Wonderful. Last question, Golden Boy.” Draco leaned in closer. “Open your eyes, look at me. Do you want this? Do you want me, Potter?”

Harry's eyes opened and a little grin crept up on his still guilty face. “Yes, I want you, Malfoy.”

“Ha, I knew you loved me,” sang Draco, now slipping his greasy fingers in between their bodies. “Now, concentrate on how good this feels. Think about my hand gliding up and down your pretty cock. Tell me what else you’re holding back,” he said in a prim voice. He intensified the massage, stifling a moan of content warmth as Harry finally began meeting his thrusts. "Tell me what to do to make you enjoy this more."

“Bastard,” Harry whispered. Without looking away, he swallowed the last of his pride. It didn't matter anymore that he once allowed himself to enjoy sex with a monster. Malfoy was worth it; he was, more or less, a decent human being who wanted nothing more than to please him. “Fine. If you touch me on the back of my neck at the hairline, in the middle, it'll lessen the aggression. Touch it to kiss me. Hold your fingers there, then I can’t bite you.”

Draco yanked him up into his arms to touch the spot. “Brilliant. Open your mouth.” The instant their lips touched their tongues stretched in need to tangle with the other. A euphoric high warmed over them as their passion soared. Draco pulled him closer, feeling his body tremble with exhaustion. The constant skin contact had drained him of energy and kept him down, somehow encumbering the healing curse’s effects. “I’m not going to hurt you. I would never hurt you. We’re going to learn to use this curse as a gift, do you understand? We’re going to beat it— and fuck like mad rabbits until we pass out. You are going to enjoy this if it kills me.”

“Okay,” Harry mumbled, relenting to the bliss of Draco’s warm hand. His head fell back while the Slytherin caresses enveloped him. He arched unconsciously as the timed movement in Draco’s thrusts succoured the final bit of his urge to fight. At last, the pleasure began to override the pain, and his thoughts drifted back to the man holding him. His strength had diminished, sweat leaked from his pores.

Draco lapped and sucked on his neck as he ground into him. It was bliss. Nothing had ever felt this good.

“I’m falling for you. I am definitely falling for you, Potter,” whispered Draco against his wet flesh. “I want to kiss you again. I feel your prick twitching to come on me.” He kneaded his scrotum, feeling them tighten under his palm. He reached down with his other hand, impelling his slick heat into fantastical torment as his mouth covered Harry’s in a hot, wet kiss.

Soft sighs mingled between their lips. Tongues twined, backs arched. Harry’s body tingled with exhilaration as his building climax pulsed and soared through his body. There was no need to touch his neck or use a counter-curse or break him; this was his will, his struggle he fought to control - and he had won. He sighed out against Draco’s chin, riding through the rhythmic thrusts of his lover and twists of his hands. He came as hard as he ever had, spilling out in hot bursts between them.

“Oh hell, you’re gorgeous,” breathed Draco, claiming his mouth once more as his own orgasm began to approach. He threaded his fingers in Harry’s hair, holding him steady as he pressed into him. “I’m going to come in you,” he told him, locking his eyes with the brilliant green radiance. And with a choked sob he thrust and stiffened. He held onto the feeling until it relented and he sagged against the hero. They stayed in each other’s arms panting and shivering in recovery. Draco licked his torn lips and laughed. He placed a light kiss on Harry’s mouth. “Now _that_ was fantastic.”

Harry grinned. “Finally.”

Draco was in awe. No one had ever touched him this way, body or soul. He could feel the emotion, something more than lust swirling around them for the first time in their lives. Yes, perhaps this was something special. Maybe he always knew this spark was there between them, and Harry might have, too. All these thoughts resounded through his head as he nuzzled against The-Boy-Who-Lived. At last, he reached behind Harry’s back and ended the spell of the magical rope.

“You and me,” he whispered, feeling his lover respond to his delicate touches, brushing his skin with soft, petting strokes. Lord Voldemort’s claim on Harry could never compare to what they had now. He had severed that. He was Harry’s. Harry was his. He kissed the tips of his finger and brought them to his lover’s lips, pressing them flat against them, feeling his lover kiss them back. “This is ours.”


	5. An Unnamed Admirer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Feeling something akin to cabin fever, the hero and the former Death Eater's son struggle to cope with being in hiding. An unnamed admirer has put a price on Harry's capture and the Veela wants her husband back.

Dolores Umbridge twisted the velvet bow in her hair as she sat heavily on the settee in her chamber bedroom. Her fireplace roared with emerald flame and the head of a very beautiful woman appeared and floated over the coals, looking around the setting with a sneer perched on her small mouth. Hundreds of moving pictures lined the walls, all of which features cats. “Zis is ze ‘ome of England’s Wizarding leader? I am not impressed,” she smacked, finding her intended target grimacing back at her. “Madam Umbridge, I presume?”

“Good evening, Mrs. Malfoy. I have received your letter concerning you husband’s whereabouts, and am seriously considering your offer if it is, in fact, an honest approach. I think I have found a way to collect him for you.”

“Of course it is zerious,” she said. “Where is ‘e?”

“The galleons you’ve promised for his delivery… I am afraid I cannot accept payment for his capture. The Aurors might find that a bit troubling. I can, however, make a private exchange once Mr. Malfoy has been publicly arrested.”

The Veela tipped her head in confusion, as a dog might. “An exchange for what?”

“If I am able to lure him out of hiding, we could make this doubly beneficial. He is residing with another wizard that I greatly want in my possession. I want Harry Potter. I want him in my clutches as soon as wizardly possible. As it is, he will never come out of hiding unless he has a reason to. I’ve been told he and your husband have gone and done the worst possible thing…made a child together. This negates your marriage contract as far as I’m concerned, so it would be in your best interest to agree to use your resources to help me.”

“Oh, ‘e ‘as, ‘as ‘e? A child with another wizard… A male?”

Umbridge shrugged. “I cannot be certain, but I assure you that if I had Mr. Potter under my thumb, the child’s existence would never be revealed. No one would be the wiser of his living status. Now, if Malfoy were to say… disappear, Potter would surely come out to look for him.”

Matilda narrowed her eyes suspiciously. “Why do you not take Potter if you can make Draco disappear and bring ‘im out of ‘iding yourself? Why contact me?”

Umbridge smiled weakly. “He is… Untouchable, so to speak. He can perform wandless magic and carries a curse that renders all skin contact with him potentially deadly. He is a powerful wizard and has protection of other powerful wizards. I cannot bloody my hands with this. If I were to go after Potter myself, I would have to publicly arrest him. If the world found out he was still living and that I caused him any harm… well, that isn’t an option. You get me Potter the moment he comes out; safely, quietly. I want him alive and unharmed. The price on his head is exorbitant. There is an unnamed admirer who is willing to pay me a king’s ransom for his safe delivery. Well worth the fortune you stand to gain by getting your husband back.”

“I zee your point. We ‘ave a deal, no? I will get you Potter, and you geeve me Draco?”

“Sounds lovely,” she said.

* * *

In the dead of the night, in the stillness of the cottage, Severus Snape awoke to the strangest sound. He popped up from his bed, wand in hand. Refraining from dressing, he tiptoed to his door and cracked it open. From his placement he could not see a thing. He dared not light his wand because something was definitely stirring in the home. Carefully, as to not make a sound, he crept out into the hallway and peered around the corner.

There was an arc of light beaming onto the floor in the kitchen. It seemed quite foreign in nature, this odd form of magic Snape had not yet seen before. Another bold crack filled his ears, the sound of glass touching stone. He heaved in a great breath, uncaring whether he was naked; he had to stop the intruder from getting too close to the child. Slipping around the banister of the kitchen nook holding his wand at his chest, he dashed in at the most opportune moment and lashed out with a fire-charged Stunner hex.

“What?!” Harry had ducked, narrowly evading the potent red beam of light that crashed into the stove beside him and blew the door off. “What the hell are you doing, Snape?!”

Clearly, he had made an unfortunate choice of judgement. The powerful magic he had assumed was a danger was merely the small bulb of light emanating from the refrigerator. Harry had set out a great deal of food on the counter top to make a sandwich. “I…I apologise. I’ll be going,” he mumbled in embarrassment, and turned on his heel to skulk off.

Draco, having just returned from the pub and hearing the bangs and cries, bumped into the former potions professor in the hall, horrified to feel their flesh come in such close contact. “Mordred, Snape! What was that noise?” he cried, averting his gaze to the wall behind him.

Snape shook his head. Nothing could get worse. “Your missus is having another midnight snack. Do think about installing a feeding trough in your room. I nearly took his head off.” He sneered at Draco, adding, “One more thing, Malfoy, and this must be said; silencing charm. Use it. I’m growing weary of assuring the children when they run into my room screaming that their parents are not murdering each other.” He turned and left before Draco could reply.

With a rattled shiver, Draco made his way to the kitchen to observe the mess. Harry looked up at him from behind the counter, his mouth stuffed full of sandwich. He pointed to it and shrugged, then held up a finger for patience, unable to iterate a single syllable until he could swallow.

“He’s right, you know,” Draco said, leaning up against the counter. He stashed his wand in his jeans and made a face at the bizarre contents oozing from Harry’s sandwich. “Maybe you should think about keeping something to eat by the bed. You’ve done this nearly every night this week.”

“Hmm, yeah, I suppose. I just can’t help it, though. It’s like there's specific stuff I need to eat at different times. I couldn’t have thought up this sandwich on my own, I dreamt about it.” Harry held up the half-eaten sandwich offering it to Draco, who politely refused. “It’s like your little Malfoy spawn is giving me visions.”

“Malfoy spawn…” There was an air between them that was somewhat stiff. Draco had been prodding Harry to confirm that the baby was, in fact, a male all month. He was exactly nine months shy of his thirtieth birthday and his time to conceive another had damn near run out. He approached the subject cautiously… as cautiously as a Malfoy could. “So, er, Snape do that thing yet or what?”

Harry thrummed his fingers on the stone-etched counter, his eyes narrowed and his lips pursed. “I’m not the one who wanted this goddamn thing— you were. You know there’s no way to terminate this if it’s not a male so you might as well drop the subject. We’ll think of something, okay?” He snapped his teeth together after this, with his eyes now wide and watching him, waiting on his inevitable comeback.

“Temper, Potty, It was only a question. I have a right to ask,” Draco retorted, because he always had to, exchanging a sneer with him.

A low growling noise began to rumble in Harry’s throat and escape through his clenched teeth. “Stop calling me that. Marvolo called me that when I tucked him in.”

Draco felt a great sense of self satisfaction in that. His tongue swished over a canine as a grin unconsciously grew on his lips. They had all been cooped up for three months together with hardly any outside contact other than Ron and Hermione’s brief visits. He would sneak out only to get drunk as fast as he could at Muggle pubs and rush back home before anyone noticed him. Not that his life wasn’t well; he adored Harry to pieces, spent more time with Cissy than he ever had, tolerated Snape and easily warmed up to the toddler boy who was supposed to grow up into an augmented Lord Voldemort. They were sort of a family now. It was something more akin to cabin fever, the need to break free to do as you please without fear of Veelas and the Ministry breathing down your neck at every turn. Hermione Granger had been freed from Azkaban a while back and was under strict house arrest and still managed to sneak over several times a week. It was simply not fair.

“Think that’s funny, do you?” Harry was not amused in the least. His nose began to crinkle up while his wide eyes grew smaller and his upper lip curled on one side. His temperament had trouble adjusting to the chemical reactions putting great strain on his system. He was endlessly ill, either fully drained of energy or vomiting in any container he could crawl to in time. This curse was not agreeing with him in the least. Unfortunately for him, at that particular moment he looked quite healthy and Draco was fully awake and very aroused.

“You look good,” Draco murmured, oblivious to the threatening manner showing on Harry’s features. His eyes roamed over the former Gryffindor’s lean form, intentionally ignoring the dollop of mayonnaise slowly sliding down his face from the corner of his mouth. He reached over the counter and grabbed up a bottle of red vermouth. His lips smacked with thirst for both the beverage and the silky deliciousness of Harry’s skin. “Mink, darling, simply mink.”

Harry gave him a weird look as he bit into his sandwich. His sneer slowly faded from his visage. “M’kay, whatever.”

Draco poured a glass for himself and held it out with an extended pinkie. “I can’t remember the last time you and I spent the evening alone together. I’m dying,” he stated. He swallowed it whole and poured another. “It’s been over a week.”

“It’s been three days,” Harry informed him.

Refilling his third glass, Draco smirked before taking another mountainous sip. “Doesn’t count. Your little Gryffindor girlfriend came over and interrupted. She’s always here, she’s always taking up my time with you. We really need some sort of Mudblood alarm system installed in this place to keep her from barging in whenever she damn well pleases.”

“You. Promised,” seethed Harry. He closed his eyes while his head swayed side by side in disbelief. His sneer returned fully. He refused to bite his tongue anymore. He leaned into the former Slytherin aggressively, their noses nearly touching, to say what had been on his mind since their first meeting at eleven years old. “You are an arrogant, blood-status obsessed interbreed.”

“Interbreed? Is that so?” Draco began to snarl. He could not help himself any longer. He was forced to tell his former rival exactly what he thought about being called such a name. “Better an interbreed than a dirty, common Mudblood,” he said, hissing very slowly through his bared teeth. And when that didn’t set Harry off, he continued in the only way he knew how to throw him into a tizzy. Again, he said his words slowly, in a deep grizzly voice. “Mud. Blood.”

With a heated inhale of breath, Harry crushed the remainder of his sandwich in his fist. He flung the goo at Draco before stomping out of the kitchen. Draco wiped the grotesque remnants from his face with a teacloth and heaved in a heated breath. Harry would not get away with this.

Throwing the door open, Draco barged in and slammed in shut behind him. Harry tugged the sleeves of the knitted roll-neck down over his knuckles. He knew what was coming. He stood contentiously in the back of the room with a look of deranged glee. “You do know this baby won’t be pure, right? It’s a fucking Half-Blood, Malfoy! Eats you up, doesn’t it?”

“Get over here this instant,” warned Draco, as an irritated parent might, pointing to the floor in front of him. “Don’t make me come over there and knock you out.”

Harry laughed, the crazed look stayed firmly set in place.

Draco cocked an eyebrow. He crossed the room, standing face to face with the other. He loved a good challenge, and Harry was so bloody challenging. Harry had no idea how dastardly he truly was, but he would find out very soon. “You see what time it is?” he asked calmly, pointing to the hanging wall clock while the other man still emanated his mock laughter. Harry looked up; taking his eyes off the blond for merely a second. He tensed and looked back down at his hand where Draco had reached out and pinched it.

“Damn it,” he managed to say, jerking his hand back before it was too late. But it was already too late. He hit the wall, his head turned to the side as Draco reached out and swiped his cheek. Harry’s eyes filmed over and narrowed, growing cloudier.

Draco relished in the art he had been perfecting; the art of shagging Harry to sleep without the counter-spell. He peeled off his clothes and tugged on the drawstring of Harry’s pyjamas, all the while keeping the raven-haired man on the very edge of madness through brief touches of skin on skin. Tonight, it seemed, Harry’s earlier threatening mannerisms were all but show. He did little to retaliate. “What’s the matter, Mudblood’s Saviour? I’m giving you the works and you haven’t tried to thump me yet.”

“Waiting,” Harry said quietly, covering his face with his forearms. “You’ll make a mistake through sheer egotism. Then I’ll hurt you.” His pyjamas fell to the floor.

“Ha, yeah, I’m trembling.” Draco ran his finger up his thigh and quickly pulled back. It was something he had experimented with. The touching and release, breaking contact before Harry fell into a rage, keeping him overwrought to wear him down. Harry turned to flee, running dead into Draco’s arms. He shoved back and rebounded against the wall once more as Draco pinned him in.

He looked so hot standing there in his over-sized jumper and his little undies, panting like an overheated mutt and wildly looking around the room for some sort of weapon he could use to crush Draco’s skull with. He had no fight in him, he’d been cornered in wait to be devoured. “You’re already shaking and I’ve barely begun my onslaught,” Draco affirmed with a grin, looking him up and down to relish in his victory. “C’mon, Potter, at least try to save yourself.”

“I swear to Merlin I'm going to kill you!” Harry cried, seizing at another brisk sweep from Draco’s fingers. He lashed out at him. His hands flew up to strike back.

Draco caught his wrists, the ends of the sleeves still balled up in Harry’s fists. He twisted his arms up behind him as he pressed him back against the wall. “Hey Potty, you don’t really want to kill me, do you?” he purred. He pressed his bare chest against the knitted ‘H’ on Harry’s, his face hovering mere centimetres above him. His free hand tapped rhythmically at his victim’s thigh, causing his body to contract with intensity.

Harry gasped so prettily, high and wispy and full of panic, his large eyes finally searching in Draco’s for trust. “I…,” he whispered in desperation, submitting to the ache of lust and the strength of his aggressor. “Please, Malfoy I…”

“Tell me what you want,” breathed Draco as he leaned in, pressing his lips to Harry’s with his fingers on the nape of his neck. He pulled back; watching his eyes haze with milky sheen, yet his voice remained fraught with need. “What do you want? Tell me.”

“More,” Harry sighed.

Draco rose up, groping Harry through his briefs. “Oh yes, there’s more. Loads more. I have another question, though.” His hand bunched the material up, exposing a great deal of Harry’s hip. He grazed the tips of his fingers over the taut flesh covering the bone. “Going to let me have my way with you?”

“Yes,” Harry gushed through a deep exhale of warm breath.

Drawing his wand, Draco pointed it door behind him to silence the room and lock the door. He looked over the former Gryffindor, deciding he strangely liked the over-sized knitted garment Harry wore every night to bed to keep their contact to a minimum. It was a solemn reminder of their pasts. It brought the old feelings up, the ones that compelled him to want to take Harry in the most devious of ways.

Without releasing his hold, Draco walked to the bed and shoved Harry into the centre. Kicking his pyjamas aside, he pounced. Harry was beneath him. He held him down as his body tensed and bucked to fight back. Harry’s struggles were weak, not close to any other contact-fuelled romp in the sack they’d had. “You’re exhausted, you can’t even budge me,” observed Draco. A small stab of guilt panged at his heart. “What’s wrong with you?”

“Just been sick,” Harry mumbled, taking in several deep breaths as Draco backed off of him and covered his legs with a sheet. “Hermione helped…I’m fine now.” He pushed the sheet back to the depths of the enormous bed and drew his toes up along Draco’s calf, purposefully throwing himself into another dose of unbridled furore. “I said I’m fine. Where were we?”

Draco caught his wrists and pinned them over his head. “Are you sure? You look a little-”

Harry growled at him as their contact intensified. He bit into the fleshy part of Draco’s upper arm, but the blond pulled back before the skin was too badly marred.

“Do you want me to do the counter-spell?” They had decidedly held off from using it anymore, unless it came to touching Marvolo.

“No, Malfoy,” Harry said spitefully, still growling like a cornered animal. But Draco knew that if Harry could still talk and if he said his name, he was still in control of himself.

With renewed interest, Draco forced a knee between Harry’s thighs. He pulled him into his arms and held him firm to the mattress. “Let’s get this ugly homemade jumper off so I can fuck ya proper,” he cooed in a soft whisper while gently thumping the side of Harry’s head. “C’mon, Golden Boy, get your arms up!” Grabbing Harry by the neck, he held him solidly as he pulled the jumper over his head. Next, he tore the briefs off and tossed the material over his shoulder. He lifted his wand and shoved Harry back against the head board, binding his wrists to it before he could fight him off. “You still with me?” He wasn’t certain Harry could hear him, and he didn’t attempt to bring him back.

Harry writhed beneath him until his energy gave out. His head tipped back against the bedstead as Draco curled his hand around his thighs and tasted his sweet body with his tongue, moving slowly up the shaft, planting sucking kisses all over so thoughtfully. Once the full force of pleasure took control, it was always easier to subdue him. Draco parted Harry’s thighs, getting his lovely cock all wet with his tongue while twisting his fingers around it in transfer of smoldering need.

Harry’s hands had long since gone limp, and his body relaxed into the soft mattress. The fight was definitely out of him tonight.

Draco sat up and dropped over him, landing on his hands. He wanted to kiss those squishy lips and feel his tongue move around inside Harry’s mouth, claim it as his own and make him kiss him back. With their noses touching, Draco nudged them to recapture his notice. He tapped his wand on his wrists to end the spell. “Put your arms around my goddamn neck and kiss me, Potter. That's an order.”

Harry moved up, encircling Draco’s long neck. Wisps of white hair tickled his face as they leaned into the other and pressed their lips together. The soft, spongy resistance of Harry’s mouth claimed every last bit of his desire. He could have stayed in that position all night, if not for the gnawing need to fuck the hell out of him. Slowly, he parted his lips, kissing Harry fully on the mouth. A gentle coax of his tongue while he tickled the nape of his neck, a brusque pelvic thrust or two and Harry’s lips opened fully to be claimed. Their tongues slid moistly along the other, twining and sweeping while their bodies melded as one.

Harry’s smooth naked skin was flush with arousal. His head tipped back, his arms fell away as his body was yanked up off the bed, granting Draco access to his throat. He was thoroughly engrossed in the sucking and nibbling on the lobe of his ear, far too gone to feel anything else. Draco was his lover, pure and simple. This was no longer deniable.

“Up here in my lap,” Draco ordered, snapping his fingers in Harry's face. He loved sinking deep inside of him while Harry sat on top of him. He leaned back against the bedstead and inhaled deeply, feeling the man wiggling against his slicked hardness.

His eyes clear and luminous green. Harry placed a hand on either side of Draco’s head, grabbing the bedstead as his muscles twitched and shook to hold himself in place. His face, soft and effeminate, so prettily pink in just the right way, contrasted perfectly with Draco’s etched elfin features; so beautiful to look at as he fucked the vestiges of wakefulness from him.

Draco adjusted himself and pressed in, keeping his eyes locked on Harry’s face. “Open your mouth,” he said sternly, holding his wand up horizontally against Harry’s lips. “Hold it in your teeth and keep your hands planted just where they are. If you move, I’ll stun you faster than you can react. Okay?”

Harry bit down on the wand and nodded in understanding.

Malfoy wrapped an arm around him and gripped the back of his head to force him to take all of him again and again. The sweaty heat of their bodies meeting stimulated his every nerve. He grabbed Harry’s hip and rose up to meet him, filling him fully and holding him completely still.

Harry dropped his head to Draco’s shoulder as he released his hair, still biting hard on his wand and panting heavily.

Draco dug his heels into the bedding as his peak neared. He drove hard, feeling his eyes roll back into his head and Harry’s hot saliva leaking onto his shoulder. Harry’s hands hadn’t moved; he stayed exactly as he’d been ordered. It spurred him on, exasperated in a frenzy of power and lust. Harry was his, this was his to do with as he wished, but all he wished for was this. Being trapped in a house with him was probably the least horrible thing that drifted through his mind. They were one and it was meant to be. Such a pity they had wasted all those years disliking one another.

His hands moved up, curling around Harry’s body as he came inside of him. No shouts of glory left him, his lips remained sealed. He breathed in the soft scent of the man’s unruly hair fluttering in delicate waves in his face. A profound sigh of contentment hummed in his throat. He collapsed, pulling Harry on top of him, wrapping his limbs around him and rolling to his side. He wanted to keep him drained all night and wake up exactly this way.

They had a future together, and for that moment they were safe.

* * *

Severus Snape shambled through the hallway and rolled his eyes the instant he caught sight of Draco pacing around in front of his bedroom door. “For the love of… Have you been standing there all morning? You look like a corpse.”

Draco looked up at him with worry etched in his forehead. He had been standing there for some time, hoping Snape was just ignoring him in his room about the gender of the child. He had no idea he was not actually in there. “Well, what is it?”

Snape smirked. “It is a male just as you so hoped. Run along now,” he said emphatically, sweeping past him to enter his room.

“Is he still sick? Would it be okay if I-” The door slammed in his face. “I’m going to take that as a ‘yes’ and go see him. Thank you, Severus.” Snape was not happy with him at all. Harry had been so bloody ill all month it was taking a serious toll on everyone’s psyche.

Somehow, Hermione had managed to fool the Ministry into believing she had engaged in work on a charity and visited daily to care for him. It was a blessing, no matter how badly Draco once disliked her. With Snape working full-time on the curses, potion brewing, creating specific draughts to help with nausea and fatigue, not to mention healing salves to mend Draco’s wounds, he had no time at all to spend with the children.

So Draco was now the ‘family nanny’. It was not something a Malfoy normally did. Malfoys did not care for their children in a domestic manner; that was what house-elves were for. But he had no choice. Someone needed to watch over Harry as his body began to change and adjust to the horrors wreaking havoc on his system, and someone needed to rear the two little children caught up in the middle.

He knocked on the studio door, an enormous room with ceiling-length windows on three of the four walls, and an open and clear view of the surrounding forest of fir trees and the vast skies above. It had been converted into a potion-making day room that also served as Harry’s hospital suite.

“Come in, Malfoy,” said a lofty voice through the door. He pulled his hair back and tied it off before entering, something Hermione had insisted on from the get go. Everything must remain neat and tidy and give no cause to disturb any brewing potion in the numerous cauldrons set up inside the room. The area was vast, partitioned off by magic to keep the nausea-causing odours from wafting anywhere near Harry. He had a hard enough time keeping anything down as it was. “Is your hair tied off? We’re brewing Polyjuice Potion. If a single hair-”

With a quick nip on his tongue to silence himself, Draco entered the room and forced himself to smile. “I’m not daft,” he blurted anyway, not realising it had slipped out until it was said.

Hermione looked up from the bench she sat over. She, like Harry, hadn’t aged much at all. She was somewhat prettier than he’d remembered her to be. She had a delicate softness to her features the way Harry had. Her mass of hair was bunched up and roped off, her robes splattered with glowing orange globs of infused armadillo bile. Without looking him over too much, she nodded her ‘okay’ and jerked her head toward the back of the room. “He’s sleeping. Do try and restrain yourself from touching him.”

“I’m awake.” Harry peeked out from behind the curtain on his side of the room and beckoned Draco over.

“Harry, lay back down and absolutely no touching. Remember what I told you,” she said warningly, her eyes locked and narrowed on Draco as he crossed over through the partition.

“We have to hold off on our nightly romps for a few days,” whispered Harry. He held out a hand by Draco’s trouser pocket, eyeing the outline of his wand. Draco dropped it in his hand and sat down on the daybed beside him. Harry swished the wand around in silence. “Okay, don’t speak too loudly. I’ve only muffled us so she doesn’t get suspicious.”

“So it’s a boy, eh? Is it healthy?”

Harry’s lip curled up unconsciously. “Oh yeah,” he said with reserved animosity. “He’s a Malfoy all right, that’s why it’s killing me. Not only is he draining all of my energy, he keeps reminding me of how impure my blood-status is.”

“Uncalled for,” murmured Draco, swatting his knee. “How are you doing?”

“I’m good, but don’t ask Hermione. She seems to think my being sick all the time is your fault.”

“Blah,” gobbled Draco, sneering at the partitioned curtain. “She’d blame everything on me if she could. Tell me then, why is it my fault?”

“All the touching we’ve been doing… You know,” Harry blushed for a moment before letting his laughter flit into the air. “She forced it out of me, but I’m pretty sure she used Veritaserum. She seems to think you’re draining my energy on purpose.”

Draco shrugged. “I am,” he stated bluntly. “What’s wrong with that?”

“Oh,” said Harry in realisation, as if it hadn’t occurred to him before that what they were doing to get to great sex was taking a toll on his health. “Er…Well, I think the baby is too much for my immune system and when my energy is drained for too long the healing curse can’t sustain the burden. Something along those lines.”

Sucking his teeth as he thought on it, Draco sat back on the bed and crossed his arms, looking annoyed. “So, she wants you to think I’m the cause of this so we can’t touch any more, eh? Fucking Muggle-born twat. As if we have anything else to do here. I’m not going to stop sleeping with you because she thinks its ‘bad’.”

Harry rolled his eyes at the ceiling. “Get a grip. She’s thinking of your baby. _Fuck do I hate it_ ,” he said the last part under his breath. He hadn’t meant for it to slip.

Draco scowled. He reached over and touched him, caring little of what Granger said, sending Harry into a fit of shudders as he pulled his hand away from his cheek. There was an urge to be hateful, to make Harry take back what he had said about his unborn son and spit in Hermione’s face to let her know she could not dictate how he dealt with his lover. “Shut up,” he hissed lowly, daring Harry to fight back against his touches. He crawled over him, pinning his wrists above his head. “Just shut the fuck up. If she barges in here I’ll drag her out of here and seal off the fucking floo.”

“Get off,” Harry growled. His voice was the softest whisper and his eyes were so narrow Draco could not see anything but lashes and a hint of fiery green. And he was weak, weakened to the point of exhaustion, trembling and fighting to remain in control as Draco darted his tongue against his lips. He turned his head away, closing his eyes.

“Fine, have it her way then.” Draco sat back and hopped off the bed, leavingHarry reeling in recovery. “You know what – I’m going out. I’m done with this mess. I need a drink and time to think about how fucked up my life is living here with you,” he spat harshly.

Harry pushed up on the bed and watched him stomp off. “Don’t bother coming back if it’s so awful!”

Hermione looked to the door as Draco wrenched it open. “You didn’t touch him, did you?”

“Shut the fuck up, Mudblood!” he screamed back and slammed the door behind him.

 


	6. The Master's Whore

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As Harry grows weaker, Draco discovers that his selfishness is the cause of the havoc wreaked on everyone around him. Will it be too late, though?

Harry sat in his armchair, feet propped up on a long ornate coffee table while he read through the Daily Prophet. He sipped his pumpkin juice liberally, wishing he could drink something stronger to calm his nerves. Something had been nagging him incisively all week, and it refused to relent no matter how many times he told himself he was going mad.

Marvolo and Cissy sat on the floor off to his side engaged in a heated battle of block building and destroying. Cissy would stack the blocks as neatly as possible, always awed by her performance before being crushed each time Marvolo would knock them down. Harry watched them periodically with a frown curling his lips as he did. Marvolo had…grown…a lot. He had grown out of all of his clothes, whereas Cissy’s clothing still fit her. The boy’s height had shot up over the last four months. He was much larger than a normal just-turned four year old, and it began to worry Harry to pieces.

Severus kept reminding him that Lord Voldemort was an exceptionally tall man, much taller than most. Marvolo had probably just experienced a growth spurt that would surely level out once winter arrived. It did little to ease the concern over the boy’s progress, but he would accept that for the time being.

The other matter, of Draco, also scraped on his nerves. He was angry with him. Draco had no right to continuously run off like a child during these dangerous times. He had been gone for over three days without a word to anyone. Ron had told them there was a search for Malfoy going on at the Ministry. He was in some serious trouble Minister Umbridge had cooked up to discredit what little name he had left. They were both advised, especially by Draco’s father, never to leave the villa for any reason. If Draco were to be captured there was no telling what might happen to him.

“Insensitive bastard,” Harry said under his breath as he flipped through the pages of the post. The paper burst forward, giving him a start.

“Daddy, we’re absolutely famished,” said Marvolo, now standing by his side flicking the paper with his fingers. “You’ve been sitting there all afternoon.” He pointed to the clock. “It’s past six.”

“Yeah, all right,” Harry replied, folding the newspaper up and getting to his feet. Cissy wrapped herself around his calf as he stood up as she always did now, hanging on to him for dear life as he dragged himself and her through the house toward the kitchen.

“You’re getting old,” Marvolo commented, patting Harry’s thigh. “All you do is sit around reading the paper anymore.”

Harry made a gruff sound in his throat, pretending to ignore him.

“Daddy is owd,” chimed Cissy.

Harry looked over the contents of the crisper. “Well, let’s see,” he said, feeling his stomach give off a sickening flip at the cold scents wafting into his nostrils. He could not remember the last time he had eaten anything and held it down. Tea or pumpkin juice had become his only form of consumption, and even that had not agreed with him tonight. “We’ve got some leftover steak and kidney pudding and fish fingers. Which would you two like?”

“Tarts,” said Marvolo, smiling.

“Biscuits,” said Cissy firmly.

Harry’s mouth began to water excessively as the revolting whirl of nausea overwhelmed him. He quickly walked to the back of the room and bent over the rubbish bin, waiting for the inevitable to happen. He held up a finger of patience behind him as Cissy and Marvolo voiced their disgust with a matching groan of “yech!” that filled his ears, drowning out the splashing thud of curdled juice hitting the bottom of the bin.

“Hey,” whispered a voice from behind. A cool hand planted itself on Harry’s hip, and another pulled the hair back from his face. “Go lie down, I’ll feed them.”

Harry wiped the sick from his bottom lip and stood up. “I’m good,” he said without a hint of malice. He was just happy to have Draco back in their home and safe from harm. He turned to him, dropping his head on his strong shoulder. Draco looked refreshed, almost glowing. He smelled very nice. The warm scent of vanilla on his clothing seemed to pacify his queasiness. “I trust you had a decent time while you were away?”

Draco sighed as he pulled him into his arms. He kissed his hair, hoping it might relieve the guilt of leaving once more without warning. “No, but I’m feeling loads better. I didn’t mean what I said the other day, I was frustrated.”

“I know,” Harry said. “She’s not trying to keep us apart. She made a potion that-”

“Go and lie down now, I’ll be in there once the children are in bed,” Draco gently ordered, breaking their contact and steering Harry through the kitchen. He did not want to talk about Hermione-the-un-matchmaker anytime soon. Even Ron had reluctantly given up on his conquest to not know anything of Harry’s and his blossoming relationship. He just simply pretended it did not exist. “We’ll talk later,” he promised in a voice of reason that Harry smiled at and listened to readily.

Harry drifted off out of the room without a word and Draco set forth to appease the two toddlers barking at his ankles for food.

* * *

Dolores rapped her enchanted nails on her desk as she read over the report handed down to her. “…and you did not see him until the moment he disapparated? Are you absolutely sure it was him?” She looked up at Savage and Proudfoot, her two remaining faithful Aurors with a puckered pout. Both men nodded as one. “This is a disturbing trend we have, is it not? That is thrice now you have let him slip past your guard when he doesn’t even know he’s being followed.”

She stood from her chair, barely rising up over the desk. Her thick sausage fingers began swiping along the myriad of parchment in the filing cupboard behind her. She lifted a file out and read through it quietly. “He has two living adult relatives; Bellatrix Lestrange and Lucius Malfoy. Lestrange has been at large since the war ended. That leaves one.”

“Yes, miss,” said Savage.

Umbridge looked up from the file at the men, her eyes bulging. “Well, what are you waiting for? Bring me Lucius Malfoy!”

* * *

“I don't look fat, do I?” The instant Harry said it he cringed. "And if I did, would that bother you?"

Draco paused in the doorway, blinking rapidly. "What?"

Potter patted his belly a few times as he stared at himself in a mirror, feeling very self-conscious. He wondered if his appearance was part of the reason Draco kept running off. “I mean…I shouldn’t be showing at all. It’s magical. Voldemort liked me looking this way, adjusted some things on me to suit his fancy. I never showed any signs with Marvolo but I think I am now. Can you see anything?”

“Absolutely not,” said Draco in truth, adding “I think you look gorgeous.”

Harry ran his fingers along his torso. He was still, in fact, very lean; perhaps more so than before. No hint of fat could be seen on his sylphlike frame.

Draco shuddered.

Harry looked up at him after dropping down on the bed. “What?”

“I swear you’re turning into my mother. ‘Am I fat?’…honestly,” he mocked. He pulled his tie off and loosened the belt on his trousers before hopping on the bed. “Did you miss me?”

“No,” said Harry, keeping his attention on his stomach.

“Liar,” said Draco snobbishly, sneering at him. He toed his shoes off and shimmied out of his clothes, keeping an eye on the man next to him as he did so.

Harry was avoiding looking at him.

With a sigh, Draco fell back into the great fluffy pillows. “I don’t know what it is that makes me act this way. That’s a lie…I do know what it is: I’m fucking insanely jealous of her.”

Harry looked beside him curiously. “Of Hermione?”

“Yeah, her.”

“Why?”

Draco rolled onto his side. “Well, she gets all your attention and she makes you feel better when I can’t. I’m supposed to care for you, not her. It’s my job.”

Curling up next to him, Harry swept the hair from his face with a careful swish of his fingers. “Come now. She’s put every waking moment into making this easier on both of us, and doing so selflessly. Did you know that she’s pregnant too?”

Draco showed a hint of interest in hearing that. “Really?” He bit his tongue to stop the slur of Weasley jokes that threatened to slip.

“Found out this morning. She’s nearly five weeks along. Ron’s beside himself,” said Harry, smiling. “She won’t be over as often anymore. Snape’s denied her access to the potions room now. He said he didn’t think she could keep herself from handling potentially dangerous ingredients.”

“That’s a plus,” Draco replied accidentally.

Harry made a noise and rolled over onto his back.

Draco slapped himself on his forehead and slipped an hand under Harry, pulling him into his arms. “Sorry, love. Really, I’m happy for them.”

“Yeah, of course you are.” Harry shrugged as he burrowed himself into Draco side. “Let’s just change the subject. I don’t want to fight.”

Draco licked his lips, hoping their new subject would turn to the matter of sex. “What would you like to talk about?”

With a soft impish giggle, Harry began prodding Draco over his lower skivvies. “This,” he said. “I missed this quite a bit.”

Pleasantly surprised, Draco grinned. “Have you now? Well, if you’re up for it… I don’t want to get you too weak.”

“Maybe that’s exactly what I want. And then maybe you’ll let me try _it_ ,” Harry said quietly, looking up at him with fluttering-lashed doe eyes. “I promise I won’t hurt you, you know I’ve gained lot of control over the curse when I’m at my weakest, Draco, please.”

“No, sorry,” Draco said matter-of-factly, through a cringe. "I'm not risking you biting my prick off no matter how weak you are, Potter."

Harry gave him a dirty look but continued his manipulations. “You can tie me up and have your way with me in the shower like you wanted to last week… I don’t care. Just let me lick it a couple of times. I can’t stop thinking about it.”

“I could do that anyway,” Drraco replied cheekily. “Try again.”

Harry sighed. “What do you want? Name it.”

“Hmm,” Draco hummed, rubbing his chin, doing his best to pretend the warm hand impelling his hardness through his shorts was not driving him slowly mad with lust. It was a small victory in his mind. Harry had never initiated anything with him before that involved sex. He would not push it too hard, he liked this sudden intrusion. He turned to Harry, pushing his hand down, pinning it to the bed.

Harry gasped. It was slowly drawn, soft and rounded gasp, not the typical intake of breath from having the bejesus scared out of you. He watched him closely, his eyes and lips large with playful thrill.

There was a wide birth of range in which Draco strategically contemplated; he could have any part of Harry in any form of sexual gratification desirable.

But what Draco wanted, truly and deeply, was probably the simplest of matters. To begin, he wanted to kiss Harry. He wanted to part his lips with his strong tongue, feel him tremble in his embrace as he ran the tip of it along his teeth, to let him anticipate how long it would take before he plunged it inside. He wanted to touch Harry as a lover, pull him into his arms and tear his clothes from him. To roll around in bed, feel the sweat pool from their bodies from friction and know he had caused it. He wanted this without a fight. Just the simplest of touch so they could love on each other without that wretched curse making everything so bloody difficult.

Only one thing stood in his way: a four year old boy who had the potential of becoming a monster. A monster who would take Harry away from him.

Why did it have to be so difficult to do something so simple? Damn Voldemort to hell. Draco wished he did not know how easy it would be to cancel the curse forever. His father might have been right, no matter how many times he told himself he could never harm him, Marvolo Potter was a condemned wizard. “No…”

Harry frowned. “No what?” he asked, studying his face with concern.

Draco laughed despite feeling less than happy about anything. “Nothing. I’m pissed…not thinking right. I don’t want to push you into anything you don’t want to do,” he said sloppily.

“You’re not pushing me into anything,” Harry whispered. “Fine. Cast the counter-spell.”

“Are you sure?” Draco waited, holding his breath. It had been far too long since they had really touched without some sort of pain being involved.

Harry gave him a nod. “We haven’t used it in a long time…months. I’m sure one night won’t hurt anything too much.”

Draco cast the spell and closed his eyes.

Harry cupped his face in his hands, watching him wait with baited breath. Slowly, he leaned forward, his arms slipping around Draco's neck. Their mouths met. The pillowy swell of their lips touched and parted. He giggled lightly as his tongue grazed softly along Draco’s. On their bed, they fell against the mattress as one, their tongues entwined in sweet harmony and their limbs encircled. They lost the rest of their clothes in the bedding and held each other as close as they could, grinding and moaning into the night.

The fireplace roared to life. Green flames burst forth, licking the hearth. Both men sat up with a start as the darkened room lit up in eerie emerald. Bellatrix Lestrange stared back at them, her face more contorted in agony than usual. “What is it?” cried Draco, knowing he had not allowed her to use the floo for any reason other than a serious emergency. He pulled Harry into his arms, shielding his nudity from her errant gaze.

“Oh, boy,” the witch said, her voice strained and cracked. “Your father, Draco…He’s been arrested for aiding a Death Eater - you. They came and took him off.”

“But…what does that mean? Can we get him out?”

Bellatrix’s eyes widened with worry. Her lips stretched in a great frown. “It’s much more serious than that. Savage kept saying, and I’m not positive because of the exact words because I was hiding in a wardrobe, but he said that Lucius would not have a trial. He’s been suspected too many times already and if you did not turn yourself in immediately he’s going to be sentenced to The Kiss.”

Draco gasped loudly. “No! Who ordered this? How can they do this?”

Harry held him down, refusing to let him stand. “Hold up! She’s a goddamn liar, Draco! They can’t do that, they don’t have the legal rights to perform The Kiss anymore. There are no Dementors in the Ministry. Let’s wait until morning and talk to Ron. He’ll know something, he’ll stop this.”

Draco shoved him back and stood up, gathering his clothing while shaking like a leaf. “You do not leave this house for any reason. Do you understand me?” he hissed, pointing his wand at Harry.

“Don’t go, Draco,” growled Harry lowly, pulling his t-shirt over his head. “It’s a trap, it has to be.”

“Of course it’s a trap,” droned Bellatrix and Draco as one. He buttoned his trousers up and rubbed his eyes briskly. “You have to take care of Cissy if anything happens. Promise me.” He pulled Harry up to his knees, who, in turn, clutched his arm.

Harry’s head was swaying. “I can’t let you go. That lunatic is lying. And even if she isn’t, you don’t know what Umbridge is capable of.”

Draco gestured behind his back. The fireplace roared once more and Bellatrix fell into the room, steadying herself on the mantle. “Stun him,” Draco ordered, grabbing and holding him roughly.

“My pleasure,” she said, pointing her wand out as Harry desperately mustered the hatred to stop her. A flash of red light hit him and he fell slack against the bed.

“Listen to me,” Draco said frantically as he yanked Harry’s pyjamas up and flipped him onto his stomach. “I’ve only got a minute…You’ve got to promise me that you’ll stay here and watch him. Under no circumstances does he leave this house. If anything happens to either of us, we both die.”

Bellatrix ran to the vanity and scribbled out a note on a scratch piece of parchment while Draco hogtied Harry as securely as he could. “Take this, memorise it and go here,” she said, thrusting the paper into his hand. “They’ll help you.”

“Death Eaters?” Draco whispered as he looked down at the address scrawled out on the parchment. “You want me to ask these people for help?”

His aunt gave him a nod. “Go there before you do anything else. I’ll keep Harry here, he won’t get out.”

“Fine then. But remember, under no circumstances does he move from this spot. You keep that door bolted shut, close off the floo and do not let Snape inside until he busts the door down. Harry’s very sick, he’ll need his medicine. Just…don’t…hurt…him.” Something began to gnaw at Draco's conscience. "Hmm..."

Bellatrix nodded solemnly.

“And he needs to eat something. He doesn’t eat.” Draco ran hand over Harry’s cheek and leaned in to kiss his lips. Harry began to stir. “I love you,” he whispered gravely.

“Okay, Draco, just go to that address.” Bellatrix smiled very sweetly. “I promise I won’t hurt him.”

Draco heaved a sigh. He picked his shoes up off the floor and walked to the fireplace. He paused for a moment, the thought of leaving suddenly troubled him more than hearing his father might die. “I…” he tried to say, but it ached to think. His insides screamed. He needed to protect Harry. “No, I…”

“Draco, your father is going to die! Please hurry!” Bellatrix pleaded, holding a hand to her collarbone and whimpering ever so.

“Oh, yes, I’m going,” Draco replied, tamping the screaming down with the fear of losing his only living parent. “I’ll be right back, Harry.” He stepped into the floo and disappeared.

“Oh, widdle Hawwy, my dear sweet boy,” Bellatrix cooed at him the moment Draco had gone. She got on the bed, crawling over to the middle and dropping down beside him. She lifted his head and rested it in her lap so that he would have a very good view of who was holding him when he woke up. Her lips curled in a sinister grin as she played with his messy hair. “How surprising. You didn’t tell him our little secret…he would have never allowed me entrance into your home if you had.”

Harry froze the instant his eyes opened. “Draco?” he croaked harshly, praying he was still in the room. He began to shake as he centred on Bellatrix. Memories of the living nightmares he endured at her hand crippled his being.

“No, no, he’s gone…all gone. I’m flattered, little Harry. You didn’t tell my nephew about us,” she repeated, and petted him as she would a cat in her lap. “You haven’t told Draco about your time in captivity with our master and me? About all the good times we had… well, ‘we’ as in my husband and me. Oh, such good times.”

“No, you heartless demon, I didn’t,” Harry said shakily. He tugged at his restraints, the magical bonds Draco had used on him before he left. They were impossible to break. Fear gripped him solidly as the memories of his past began screaming for him to run.

“Pay attention, widdle baby,” Bellatrix said while slapping his cheek with the tips of her fingers several times as hard as she could. “You didn’t tell widdle Dwaco about how I would hold you while our master waped you whenever he wanted? No, you couldn’t have. Why would Dwaco let me baby-sit his weak widdle baby, Hawwy, the pretty widdle thing who’s been fucked in every hole over a thousand times like the dirty widdle Half-Blooded whore that he is, hmm?”

Fury ignited in Harry's veins. He scowled at the witch. “I would have killed you too if you were there. It’s alright, though, I’ll get you sooner or later.”

Bellatrix cackled. “And I promised I would not hurt you, but I can’t truly hurt you…permanently, can I? Not with that lovely healing curse to protect you. And I still remember the counter-spell, my weak widdle Hawwy.” She smiled with her lips, but her heavy eyes grew dark. “How many times have you used it to shag with Draco? I wonder how diluted it is now…”

Harry gritted his teeth, feeling the counter-spell begin to wane. “If I get free-”

She clamped her hand over his mouth to silence him. “If you get free? That won’t happen. And don’t scream too loudly, we wouldn’t want to wake up the whole house.” She lifted her hand and leaned down, kissing his lips. “I know there are children here, children who bleed like stuck little pigs with tiny little minds that can be manipulated to forget so easily. Let's not have it come to that, I hate torturing small children; they scream like banshees."

“Don’t say that,” Harry implored her. His trembling was uncontrolled, as bad as any fit of anger he tried to suppress. His eyes began to glaze over with each sweep of her hand. “I’ll go. Please…children…ssstay away…”

“Hush, my weak, weak widdle Hawwy,” Bellatrix decried as she choked his words off with a tight squeeze on his throat. “Save your strength, you’re going to need it.”

* * *

The dim lighting in each room cast elongated shadows across the walls as two figures moved through the house. With one arm around Harry's neck, the other poking her wand into his side, Bellatrix hissed and jumped at every out-of-place noise that pricked her ears.

Harry hardly complied with her movement, but not for a lack of trying.

“You’re doing fine. Keep moving with me, we don’t want to wake those little darlings up,” Bellatrix whispered in Harry's ear.

In honesty, she was worried they might rouse Snape. Severus was a stellar match with her skill in duelling and he would not be holding a hostage. If ex-Death Eater were alerted to her presence in any way the plan would fall flat and she would most likely die. The tip of her wand stabbed hard into his side as they stumbled.

Harry yelped despite his demand on himself to remain in control.

"Stay quiet!" Bellatrix’s forearm closed off his air supply. “Think of those innocent children, Potter.”

Not much else had flitted in Harry's clouded mind. Draco was a god damned idiot. His father wasn’t worth this. The whole lot of them could rot in hell for all he cared.

* * *

Through the rustling trees, a dark figure sat high on a branch, biding her time. The stir of a powerful wizard’s magical signature sipped at her skin. There was a troubled surge of energy emanating from within the depths of the hidden home, dark and deep, bursting to blow. She could smell the fear and anxiety of both wizard and witch as they drew closer to her. The night wind swept through her white-gold hair, blowing it away from her perfect oval face. Harry Potter was coming. He was so close to her.

She felt it, a compelling connection between them. She could smell her husband all over him; thick, heady streams of collective desire seeped from his pores. He and Draco were lovers, pure and simple. He hid it well, this mortal lust for a man she so desperately wanted dead. It nearly hurt her to think of destroying something that was so beautiful in the eyes of this duped man. It would be amusing to touch his mind and see what he saw in that pathetic drunk.

* * *

Bellatrix threw herself into a panic. She cast the counter-spell once more, despite not touching any part of Harry’s bare skin. The idea of Voldemort's whore losing control at any moment frightened her witless. She had to hurry and get him outside.

The front door stood to be the only obstacle in her path. She wrenched her arm tighter against Harry’s throat and hefted him off of his toes. She shoved her wand in her robes and placed her hand on the heavy brass knob.

_“You forgot to close off the floo…”_

The disembodied voice awakened the deadly silence. Bellatrix nearly swallowed her own tongue. "What?! Who's there?"

Draco emerged from the darkness, pale and glistening with cold sweat. He wore a scowl directed at his mother's older sister. “I actually stood in front of the home you sent me to. I almost went in…But then I got to thinking about what Harry had said…about Ron helping. And then I remembered who I left Harry with, and that strange stabbing feeling happened again…this feeling inside me that spoke to me and said ‘go back and kill that psychopath before she slaughters another person you love’.”

Bellatrix let out an exasperated whimper. “Draco, you must understand… Harry is not meant for you. He’s the master’s whore. The Dark Lord called upon me to bring him back. I made an oath, I promised-”

“Shut up,” Draco warned her, his wand shaking in his grasp. "Shut your filthy mouth, witch."

Harry tensed up in Bellatrix’s quivering hold, sensing some sort of latent wild-magic purling off Draco’s skin. It radiated from his aura, filling the area with his newfound hatred for his aunt.

"Tell me..." Draco moved toward them, his wand flickering to life in his palm. “Did you help your master kill him my mother? Maybe you just killed her yourself…”

“Draco, please, I’m only following orders!” Bellatrix cried. “He found out where she had hidden you and did not act upon it because of me! I saved your life! I kept you out of the war.” She groped around for her wand as the white-haired man towered over her and plucked it from her breast pocket.

“Let him go,” Draco said coldly, slipping an arm around Harry’s waist. He leaned in close, his hot breath warming her nose. “Take your hand away slowly, Bella." When she released Harry, Draco flicked his eyes at the door. "Now open it, step outside,” he said, gesturing her out.

“You should know,” Bellatrix hissed smugly, turning back to face him before he shut her out, “Potter's boy’s fate has been sealed. Our master sent his broken angel to finish what was started. He commands that I deliver Potter to him, the last living Parselmouth, to open the tomb. Draco, please don’t ignore the signs, he will forgive you for sullying this whore if you give him to-”

Draco slammed the door. A flick of his wand dissipated the bonds, and Harry shakily gripped Draco like a vice. “It’s over. Are you all right?”

“I’m fine,” Harry said through a breath, clearly lying. He grabbed a large handful of white hair and yanked Draco’s face close to meet his eye. His expression was wild, his eyes sparkling with fervour. But instead of ripping a handful of that stringy hair away from Draco's scalp, he smiled very brightly. “I’m so proud of you for coming to your senses before it was too late, you git, even if you did let her go.” He kissed him then, long and hard.

* * *

 

Matilda screwed up her face. Harry was nearly out, so close to be taken, but the witch wringing her hands at the door had foiled everything. Wings sprouted from his shoulder blades. The door slammed in Bellatrix’s face and she fell to her knees, failing the Dark Lord once more. The Veela’s eyes narrowed. Her chance to take possession of Harry, the new thing in her life that fascinated her, was completely ruined. She could not see the home nor get much closer than where the witch was standing but it was close enough. She swooped in and struck. 

A scream erupted in the air, penetrating the barrier of the wards.

Draco and Harry’s lips parted in a singular gasp. They looked at the door, hearing the gurgling sounds of desperate and tortured screams torn from Bellatrix’s throat. She pounded on the door for nearly a minute, and Draco almost wanted to open it. He cringed and felt Harry twitch in his arms once or twice, but the horrors beyond that door might somehow step inside. Bellatrix Lestrange was not worth the blood spilling under the foot of it.

* * *

“There’s no proof she didn’t do that herself. If someone attacked her outside, they know we’re here. And just how long will it take before Draco needs to have his freedom again and run away? No, we’ve got to move,” Severus said darkly, his face twisted in anger. He paced back and forth in front of his work table, slamming his fist on the edge every few seconds. “How dare you give that address to anyone without informing me! If I had known Bellatrix could use the floo network here I would have taken Harry and Marvolo out. I am so close to making your father childless, Malfoy, you have no idea.”

Draco opened his mouth to speak.

“Do you honestly ever stop and think about anything before you act? Can anything flit through your mind that doesn’t involve booze or finding ways to make Potter vomit? What in the hell is wrong with you?” Snape barked, snapping Draco’s mouth shut with his hand. He turned away, fidgeting with some papers on the table and picked one up. “We have no choice,” he murmured, tossing it back on its stack. “Start packing.”

“That’s not really wise. We have nowhere to go,” injected Harry, feeling quite terrible about that tongue thrashing Draco had been put through all morning. “I mean, yes, something attacked her outside and there was blood…but it could very well have been an animal. We’re out in the middle of absolutely nowhere. Draco still had her wand, she was defenceless.”

Snape turned on him, unhinged, boring holes into The-Boy-Who-Lived with a fiery glare in his black eyes. “I am going to count to three. If you both are not up and packing by the time I say ‘three’, neither of you will walk right for a month.”

Harry looked at Draco in confusion.

“One.”

Draco stood up, cringing, gesturing for Harry to follow.

“Two.”

Harry got up and slipped on a patch of glumbumble extract. He righted himself quickly and raced to the door, closely behind Draco.

Snape sneered, his fist hitting the edge of the table once more. There was a place they could go. One place left that no one but he, Harry, and the remaining members of the Order of the Phoenix had access to.

* * *

Handing Draco a withered and yellowing slip of parchment, Snape took the children’s hands and led them down the walkway. “Do you remember the words I showed you?” he said, pulling them both in closely to his legs. “Think very hard about the numbers and letters you’ve seen. If anything appears, tell me immediately.”

Marvolo pointed ahead. “I see it, Severus.”

Severus smiled and ruffled his hair.

Cissy looked around at nothingness.

Draco memorised the address on the paper, which had been written out long ago by the now-dead Secret Keeper of the home. The large, gloomy manor came to life before his eyes as he looked up. “Oh gods…” he whined, knowing it was as bad as he had imagined it might be. Number twelve, Grimmauld Place had deteriorated into shambles. The once fine mansion was now a condemned monument the stuff nightmares were made of.

He squatted down beside his daughter and let her look over the parchment once more. “Come on, what does that say? Remember when we sounded it out together earlier?”

“One and two,” Cissy announced, pointing at the parchment.

Harry had been very quiet. He hugged himself, feeling a chill run through his veins. The last thing in the world he wanted to do was return to this place. “Sev, I might need you to do that memory altering charm you always threaten me with…my legs don’t want to cooperate,” he said out of the corner of his mouth. Snape took his wand out with a nod. Harry held up a hand and smirked. "I'm joking...I think."

“Daddy, I see it!” shouted Cissy. She hopped up and down on the pavement, pointing her little finger at the dilapidated house.

“Good job, Cissy!” Marvolo took her hand and gave it a squeeze, knowing she had it in her.

Draco kissed her cheek. “Let’s get in there. Er…you first, Severus.”

* * *

With Bellatrix’s wand in hand, Harry set out to begin the ungodly task of cleansing the rooms. The interior of the house had not corroded as badly as the outside, but that did not make the challenge any easier. Several dangerous relics still occupied most of the rooms. With Marvolo’s and Cissy’s curious little minds, there could be no telling what might happen if they were to stumble upon one of them. Everything had to be cleansed and destroyed that was not nailed down.

“Maybe we can talk when you’re done here.” Draco had followed Harry into the master bed chambers, wand and drink in hand. He leaned against the door frame, pointing his wand at the rotten and eroded bed in the centre of the room, restoring it to its original state. Harry poked his head out of the back cupboard and gave him a nod before returning inside. Draco pursed his lips.

“Where are the children? I don’t think it’s terribly safe to leave them-” The sounds of a train wreck or something similar crashed down from within. Harry yelped loudly, sparks and red light penetrated the room from the cupboard.

Draco jumped in shock. He ran to the door and threw it open.

Harry stumbled out rubbing his bloodied cheek.

“What the hell happened?” Draco took his arm and pulled him free. He peered inside. Several small rodents scrambled to safety under a mass of refuse. Two of them lay unmoving at his feet. He lifted one up by its tail and barked out a chortle.

Harry took his fingers away. The marks on his face and arm healed over and vanished. “Niffler attack…at least twelve,” he said through a chuckle. He walked over to the bed and fell back on it, holding his heart. “They’ve got a stash of jewellery in there I got too close to…scared the piss out of me.”

It was refreshing to see Harry look alive and animated after the day they’d had. Draco finished his drink. He set the glass down and went to work on stunning the rest of the tiny creatures.

Draco added, “The tykes are with Snape. He cleared out a room and transfigured a few things into toys.”

Harry nodded. “That’s good of him. I finished part of the kitchen and a bedroom for them. I made a set of adorable beds. Cissy was adamant about hers being purple, I can’t wait for her to see it,” he said with a big grin.

Draco began tossing nifflers out of the window. “The tots are sharing a room again—you think that’s okay?”

“They’re three and four,” remarked Harry, cocking his head. “You think you can separate them?”

Shaking the dust from his hair, Draco dropped on the bed next to him. “I think that’s all of them. They’re harmless anyway.”

“The nifflers or Marvolo?” asked Harry, looking unwell. Draco reeked of whiskey once more, making him wish he had taken a nausea draught when Snape had offered it.

“Nifflers, you twit. Honestly…” Draco didn’t want to fight, not now, not ever again. He had joined Harry there to talk. They needed to tell the other the truth, he needed to know Harry’s past and help him heal before they could move forward. The attack from Bellatrix had done more than startle him, Harry had holed up inside. “I don’t want any more secrets between us. If you’ve got something to say about Marvolo, come out and say it.”

Harry cleared his throat in uneasiness. “You don’t like him,” he stated. “He’s a good boy. He adores you. He’s really grown warm to you being with us. It hurts to think you can’t get past what your father told you.”

Lucius was in Azkaban once more and under heavy guard. It had only been a day, but Ron had assured him and Draco that there were no more Dementors residing in the wizarding prison. Even if there were, a law had been put in place that granted everyone a trial before any sentence could be handed down. He promised to throw all of his weight into keeping it so.

“It’s not that,” Draco confessed, “I like him, I do. He’s terribly intelligent and has taken a real shine to Cissy. She speaks in three and four word sentences now.”

“And your drinking,” Harry said, frowning. “When are you going to give that up?”

“Er…what’s that have to do with anything? I don’t abuse you or anything, stupid. I can control it just fine.” Draco felt the heat rise from under his collar. There would be a fight. He did not want to fight.

Harry nearly laughed. “I’m thinking more about your liver than any abuse I might endure, dolt. If I can’t drink, I don’t think you should either.”

Draco sighed. “I’ll work on it. But you have to be more honest with me now. I was stupid for trusting my aunt when it should have been clear that she was serving Voldemort back in the camps, and I apologise. I don’t want any more surprises. I think we’ve grown enough to be able to be honest with each other now.” He rested on his elbow, looking down at the handsome man squirming beside him.

Swallowing his fear and looking into his light grey eyes, Harry settled back fully and laced his fingers behind his head. “What do you want to know?”

Draco blinked.

* * *

“…a year before the camps were opened. I lived in The Riddle House in a room with no door or window. I only saw two people; Voldemort and Snape. Snape was still a triple agent at the time and I hated him dearly, much more than I hated you,” he said matter-of-factly, giving him a wink.

“Lovely,” said Draco.

“I was bait. There’s too many bleeding hearts in the Order, they all fell one by one into his traps. A lot of them died, some were taken prisoner. That’s when they opened the camps. Voldemort had so many things brewing all at once; he didn’t have time to kill everyone. He loved dark magic, now he had all of these innocent people he could practice it on.

“I was moved to a camp when Ron and Hermione were caught so he could use them to make me do whatever he wanted. I was hoping he’d kill us all. Hermione was so brave. They were so cruel to her...hurt her…” His hand was by his mouth, trembling against his bottom lip. “There was this one time, when I wouldn’t take this potion I had to swallow whole. She should have died. I couldn’t understand how she survived the brutality. Pettigrew just kept cutting her throat and she'd just fall over. He’d pick her back up by her hair and there was blood everywhere - but she was alive…”

“The healing curse…” murmured Draco under his breath.

Harry nodded. “Needless to say I drank the potion. I don’t remember what happened after. But then I woke up, Voldemort was holding me down, and he was pointing, laughing at Hermione. He told me what he’d done, thinking I’d be happy. It would be like Neville, he said, only much better because I was special, I was the Chosen One.” Harry shifted away from Draco to hide his face. “I just wanted to die. Lord Voldemort was fucking insane.”

Draco curled into him, bringing Harry into his arms. “Let’s stop,” he whispered.

Harry looked at him, his luminous eyes aglow and bloodshot. “There’s one more thing I should tell you,” he said, his voice husky and cracked.

“If you must.”

“Yeah, I must,” he said. He dropped his head onto Draco’s shoulder and let the floodgates open. “I didn’t want to kill him. It took a lot willpower to muster up the hatred to do it. Snape forced me to, he made it clear what Voldemort's plans were. And even then, it was difficult. I…”

“You loved him,” finished Draco, knowingly.

Harry shrugged against his neck, brushing the skin briefly. He tensed, but Draco pulled his head back.

“Its okay, Harry, that’s not your fault. He manipulated you, kept you in seclusion for years. It’s a coping mechanism. That doesn’t make you weak.”

“He would just sit with me and tell me all of his plans. He talked about everything with me. He didn’t use the counter-curse when we had sex, it was hardly ever used at all. I did whatever he wanted…whenever he wanted. After a while he wouldn’t let anyone near me. Bellatrix wasn’t allowed to touch me anymore. But then Marvolo was born, Voldemort was livid that he took after me rather than he. He wanted nothing to do with him. Snape decided then what needed to be done, and when I found out what he would do with my son… there was no turning back.”

Draco kissed the crown of his head. “Thank you for telling me, Harry. I know how hard that was.”

“Look, Draco I don’t love him. It was never love, nothing like… you know.” Harry blushed, looking away as Draco leaned in.

“Nothing like what?” Draco asked, trying very hard to suppress his need to smile. “Say it, Potter. You know you want to.”

Harry stiffened up with a smirk. “No, you say it first.”

Draco gaped back at him. “I’ve already said it, you were just unconscious at the time.”

The former Gryffindor rolled his eyes. “Fine. Like us. Because maybe I love you.”

Draco patted his arm. “That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

Harry gasped angrily.

“Oh, darling.” The former Slytherin nuzzled back into Harry’s embrace. “I love you, too. I really do.”

“ _No, I don’t want it! No, no, no, Marvo!”_

Cissy ran down the hallway plugging her ears, passing the bedroom. Marvolo ran closely behind her holding out a snake. _“No, no! Daddy!”_

Harry and Draco ran out of the room, chasing and cornering the two toddlers before they tumbled down the steps. Harry pulled his gloves on while Cissy clenched onto his leg for dear life. Draco plucked her away.

“What are you doing to her now?” Harry hissed, his wide eyes centred on the snake in the boy’s hand. “Don’t move…Where did you get this?” He lifted the thin serpent away from him and held it up to the light. It was dead.

“Are you alright, sweetheart?” Draco was looking his child over for marks.

“It was in the pantry. I was just playing,” groaned Marvolo. “I thought it was funny that she was so frightened of it, that’s all.”

Harry made a face. The snake had not been dead long, its body hung limp and fleshy between his fingers. “Did you kill it?”

Marvolo looked down at the floor. Cissy nodded in her father’s arms. “He fwowed it.”

The boy looked back at his father in exasperation. He was whimpering, on the verge of outright sobbing. “It talked to me! It called me a baby and said it wanted to hurt Cissy,” he confessed. He held out his hand, showing his father dozens of puncture marks littering his skin. “When I tried to stop it it bit me.”

“Oh my God,” cried Harry, dropping the snake and scooping his son into his arms. “Severus!”


	7. The Man with the Crimson Eyes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marvolo's fate has been sealed. Harry's health declines rapidly. Snape's worst fears come true. Draco's conscience awakens. There's no turning back, they can only move forward and face the evil that awaits.

Snape rubbed salve along the bite marks covering Marvolo’s hand and arm, while clucking his tongue after each nervous sigh that escaped Harry’s lips. “It was only a grass snake. There are probably more of them in that pantry; it’ll have to be cleaned out. Now, tell me, boy,” he said, holding Marvolo’s chin up to meet his eyes. “Why did it bite you? Did you taunt it first?”

“That’s ridiculous. Why would he taunt a snake?” chided Harry.

“Don’t play stupid, Harry. There is no mystery as to why Marvolo might be overly interested in  _snakes_ ; he now knows he can talk to them.” Severus gave Marvolo’s chin a small shake to keep his attention. “What have I told you about saying things that can get you into trouble? Just because you can talk to snakes does not mean you should. They are dangerous and unpredictable. You know you can come to your father or me to take care of these things.” He cleared his throat, as if something else needing to be said had gotten caught at the back of his tongue. “And don’t act so brave in front of that pretty little Malfoy girl. From my understanding she is part Veela. The Veela are mystical creatures with a power as strong as Dark Magic, Marvolo. They can make little boys do things they would not normally do.”

There was a loud _*bang*_ outside the room. Harry jerked his head toward sound and cringed.

Severus ignored it as if it hadn't happened.

“I promise I didn’t tease it,” Marvolo said defensively, looking up at his father for support. “I swear, daddy. It sought me out...it found me, and it spoke at me as soon as it saw me. It told me it was going to bite Cissy, I just told it to shut up, to leave her alone.”

“I think that’s enough, Sev.” Harry lifted Marvolo off of the work table and set him on his feet. “Thanks for fixing him up. Say ‘good night’, Marvolo.”

* * *

Draco stood outside the laboratory holding Cissy in his arms. The mask of indifference he wore made him unreadable.

“All right?” asked Harry, cautiously, worried Draco might go off on his child for being a Parselmouth, too, and a danger to his precious little angel. He was tired, weak, and unready for these sudden bursts of anxiety that kept flaring up everyday. "He didn't mean it, he would never hurt Cissy."

“Duh, Harry. It's him," Draco hissed, looking at Snape's door. "Sev thinks Cissy willed Marvolo to do it because she’s part Veela? That fucks me off,” he said, keeping pace with Harry as they climbed the stairs to the children’s bedroom. “He’s got a lot of nerve…they’re children. Children mess with snakes and do stupid things. I wish this biting problem she has would carry over on him. I’d give anything to see him hopping around on one leg…maybe he’d fall out a window.”

Marvolo glanced up at the white-haired man from over Harry’s shoulder.

Sighing with relief that there wouldn’t be a fight, Harry wasn’t about to argue over Severus’s odd way of showing concern. “Well, he didn’t have much of a childhood, Draco. He just worries too much.”

They dropped the children into their beds and tucked them in, and Draco kissed both of their cheeks for Harry. Slipping out of the door, Draco nudged up along his side, bumping Harry up against the wall. “Are you ready to christen our new room yet?” He pushed Harry’s wrists over his head, pinning them solidly as he thrust his hips against into pelvis. “I’ve been waiting all day.”

Harry turned his head away the moment Draco chose to strike with his mouth. “What did Ron say?”

Draco stopped moving and cocked an eyebrow. “Ron said we should definitely christen it,” he teased. Harry chuckled. “No, seriously, he said my father should be out of Azkaban by Tuesday. The Ministry has no grounds to hold him for longer than that.”

Harry simulated a smile. “That’s wonderful.”

“Yeah, and I won’t tell him about Bellatrix when he returns either. Ron said it might stir up a Death Eater hunt on us.” Draco ran his fingers along the length of his arm still pinned above him. His tongue grazed his lips and Harry gasped sharply. “Relax, Har. Just try and stay centred on me.”

“No, I can’t-”

“Yes, you can. You’ve done it before.”

Harry began to panic with each teasing lap of Draco’s tongue. “I- don’t think I can,” he said through another punctuated breath. He could feel Draco’s hard cock through his trousers pressed into his thigh, and taste the black forest brandy staining his lips blood-red. “Oh Gods.” His own stir of arousal escalated.

“You okay?” Draco pulled him into his embrace. His lips nuzzled the shell of his ear while his hands held Harry’s behind his back. “Come on, try and walk with me,” he whispered.

Harry shook his head. “No!” He threw himself into Draco, knocking him down. He stood over him blinking, looking at his hands and breathing heavily. Slowly, meticulously, a vicious grin curled on his lips as his bright green eyes moved down and centred on man on the floor. “Get up, Malfoy. C’mon, get your arse up.”

“Ooh…” moaned Draco, his eyes feral in return. He fucking loved it when he called him ‘Malfoy’ and fought back with mock derision. “We are mischievous tonight, aren’t we?”

With an impish titter, Harry raised an eyebrow and leaned back against the wall. He put his hands behind his back, interlocking his fingers. “Very…You should probably try and teach me a lesson…if you’re man enough.”

Getting to his feet, Draco smirked back at him and licked his lips. He trapped Harry against the wall with his body, pinning his hands behind him. “I’m going to teach you something alright,” he said, and gripped Harry’s chin. He pressed an index finger and thumb into his jaw, forcing it open. Looking into his cloudy eyes, he thrust his tongue deep inside.

Harry moaned into his mouth and struggled to free himself. Their pelvises were locked, grinding against the other as their tongues fought and twined as one. Harry was panting like an injured animal in Draco’s arms, drained of energy and verging to pass out.

“Now, now,” purred Draco. His grip tightened around his trembling form. He paused for a moment, adjusting his arms against the wall. “Where’s your Mudblood to help you now, hmm? You’ve got to get out of this one yourself, prat.” Harry threw his head back against the wall in response, knocking himself silly.

“You said it again- Fucking let me go, Malfoy!” he cried. His whole body was sweating and shivering without control.

Draco clamped a hand over his mouth. “Hush now, baby. The children are right inside there. They’ll think daddy’s getting hurt again and walk out here on us…again. C’mon,” he whispered and wrapped an arm around him. “Stay with me, Potter. Just because you’re so fucking weak right now doesn’t mean you can’t win this.”

The contact was far too great for his ailing form. With a convulsive arch and one last strangled gasp for air, Harry tensed fully for a second before collapsing in a dead faint.

“Or then again…” Draco said, lifting the man up into his embrace and carrying him off to their room.

* * *

“It’s time. Get up this instant and get moving.” Marvolo tugged hard on Harry’s leg, desperate to get his agreement. “You promised. You promised. YOU PROMISED!”

“ALL RIGHT!” cried Harry. He folded his newspaper up and tossed it on the table. He was feeling very queasy at the moment, he had developed a fever that Snape was having problems keeping under control. Regardless, he had agreed to take the children out to the garden for an hour before midday. Perhaps a little sun would do them all a bit of good.

“I’ll get my trainers!” Marvolo ran off.

Cissy grinned up at Harry from the floor and held her foot up, showing him her new sandals. “Got’em on, daddy.”

“Good girl,” Harry said, pulling his gloves on and extending a hand to her. He patted her on the head, grinning. “I have a fantastic idea, sweetheart. Why don’t you run upstairs and tell your father he has to join us in the garden. And don’t take no for an answer.”

“Okay,” the tiny girl replied, with a twinkle of Malfoy wickedness in her grey eyes.

Marvolo was back in place minutes later, shoving Harry toward the back door in the kitchen nook. “Go please, move.”

The moment he stepped outside, Harry grimaced. The vast garden was terribly overgrown. The wheat-grass and wild plants would swallow the children whole. Marvolo dashed off into untamed bushes of lilacs and disappeared before he could stop him.

“What the hell, Potter,” Draco came up beside him rubbing his arm. “Did you tell her to bite me?”

Harry gave Cissy a mixed look of shock and amusement. “Oh, Cissy-darling, we’ve talked about biting already today,” he said in a disappointed drawl.

“Cissy, c’mon!” shouted Marvolo through the swaying grass. The shock of messy black hair was barely visible. “Hurry up! I found it! It’s here, Cissy!”

The white-haired child bolted off into the grass and vanished. "Wait, Marvo!"

“You think this wise?” Draco nibbled at his bottom lip as he scanned over the dense meadow.

“They can’t wander very far,” said Harry. He rested down in a rickety chair. It was very warm outside, much warmer than he would have liked. Sweat broke out from ever pore on his body and immediately drenched his clothing. “Don’t stray out of earshot!” he shouted.

Draco stood behind him with his hands on his shoulders. “You haven’t recovered yet from last night,” he whispered the raunchy statement, grinning. “You did tell me to prove to you I was man enough. Are you convinced?”

Harry laughed. “Yes, I’m thoroughly convinced.”

The handsome blond knelt beside him. “How is that doing?” he asked, pointing to his stomach.

“Kicking me,” he replied. “I wish you could feel how strange it is. He’s so strong, much stronger than Marvolo was.”

* * *

The soft, sweeping whispers made the tiny hairs on her arms stand on end. “Marvo, no.” Cissy frowned, shaking her head as she backed away but Marvolo caught her by the hand and pulled her back. “Daddy said no.”

“Daddy won’t know if you don’t tell,” he said quietly. “Snape was mean to you, wasn’t he?”

Cissy sniffled and looked back at her father and Harry worriedly. She nodded.

“We can’t let him get away with that, can we?”

“Daddy said no,” she repeated. “It bites.”

“So do you, Cissy. It’s agreed to help us.” Marvolo narrowed his eyes maliciously. He pulled Cissy down next to him, hugging her around her middle as she stared in horror at the thing in the grass he had been playing with. “You’re my friend. You’re a Veela and you should be proud. I won’t let him talk about you like that.”

* * *

Draco pulled up a worse-looking chair and sat down next to him. It creaked under his weight, but held. “So, what do you think about calling him ‘Lucius’?”

Harry blinked. “No.”

“Just like that?”

“Yes, just like that. Merlin, really?” Harry sat forward and looked out into the field of tall grass. He could hear the children giggling and moving about. He sat back, seeing the scowl on Draco’s face. “Still no.”

Draco fiddled around with his wand, tempted to zap Harry with a Confundus charm. “What was your father’s name?”

“James,” said Harry, looking away, waiting for the inevitable drawn-out sigh to escape Draco’s lips. Instead, the word ‘common’ made its way to his ears. “Do shut up.”

With a wave of the hand, Draco flirted with his idea. “Malfoys do not have common names. I’m thinking Roman…maybe Latin; a commanding, powerful name that speaks to you before you’ve ever laid eyes upon him.”

Harry was almost afraid to ask. “Can you give me a few examples of what your maniacal mind has come up with?”

Draco shook a fist at him and smirked. “I was thinking Zephyrinus, Constantine, or Anastacius if the Lucius suggestion fell flat.”

Harry shuddered. “No, no, and no. I think something common isn’t such a bad idea. He is probably going to be quite famous, you know…Once it gets out in the media that Harry Potter and former Death Eater Draco Malfoy, the two eccentric male wizards in hiding from the Ministry made a baby, well…I don’t want to burden him any more with an outlandish name.”

“Outlandish- Like Marvolo?” slipped Draco. “That’s a strange name if I’ve ever heard one.”

Harry sighed. “I didn’t have a choice about that. Snape named him; it was part of his vow to Voldemort.”

“But you could have called him something else,” he added.

“ _Again_ …part of the vow. You think our vow was complicated? Snape’s allegiance to Marvolo is tenfold- ~ _What is that in your pocket~?_ ” Harry stood up and hurriedly crossed over to the children as they emerged from the grass. Marvolo gasped and backed up, covering the pocket of his shorts with his hands.

“What’s going on?” Draco looked the boy over in confusion.

Harry looked back at him. “Get over here and take Cissy into the house.”

Without question, Draco took Cissy’s hand and walked her back to the door. He knew that look Harry had given him. Something was very wrong.

“I can hear it talking! Put your hands behind your back _NOW!_ ” he shouted, trembling with anger. The tall toddler boy lowered his head in shame as Harry reached into his pocket and pulled out the adder he had concealed. He hissed furiously at it, his eyes filming over and his body straining rigid. “Get away from me, Marvolo,” he warned him sharply. _“~GO~!_ ”

Marvolo swallowed back a sob and ran to the door. Harry snarled and crushed the snake in his hand.

* * *

Draco handed Harry a small vial. “Severus said this would do the trick. I nicked it after he left the stores, he has no idea you've been bitten." He glanced over Harry, watching him uncork the bottle. He didn't emanate a once-healthy glow any more; he was pale, weak, and sickly-looking. His hands trembled as he fiddled with the cork. "Are you sure you’re all right?”

“I’m fine.” Harry tipped the bottle back and swallowed the contents. “Ugh, that’s awful. Thanks for not telling him, Draco.”

Draco plopped down on the couch next to him, eyeing the swelling bite marks on his wrist. “Here, I got this, too.” He dabbed the cuff of his shirt into a jar of salve and rubbed it on the wound. “How did that deadly serpent get through the wards?”

Harry winced. His healing curse was all but stretched to the limit as it was. A poisonous wound only added to his nausea and fever. “It was probably born here, like the snakes we found in the pantry. There are more of them out there, I’m sure. I didn’t mean to kill it though…feel awful about that.”

“I think it’s for the best. We can’t really worry about snakes coming to kill us whenever little Marvolo is cross with us,” Draco spat unthinkingly.

Harry ripped his hand away from him. “He wasn’t going to kill Snape. He was going to scare him. My son is not like _him_ , Draco, let’s get that fucking straight right now. He is not Lord Voldemort!”

Draco put up his hands defensively, but a sneer curled up on the left corner of his top lip. “Fine, fine, he was not going to have a deadly snake kill Snape, only scare him. You’re child is a wonderful boy, very kind and caring, wouldn’t harm a fly, is never going to turn into He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named… Yeah, we’ve been over this before.”

The sound of footsteps approaching the sitting room caught their attention. Draco looked up and growled low in his throat. He pulled his hand back from around Harry’s shoulder. “I wasn’t touching him.”

Hermione Weasley slipped into the overstuffed chair off to Harry’s side. “Oh, I’ve been so ill all week,” she said, ignoring the white-haired pain-in-the-arse. “I can’t keep a thing down. Oh, what happened to you, Harry?”

Harry shrugged it off. “Snake bite. I found a viper in the garden.”

The former Prefect frowned as she got up and bent over him, looking at it carefully. “You’ve taken anti-venom for it?”

Harry nodded.

She noted the glistening sheen dabbed on the puncture wounds. “I see a healing salve has been applied as well…good, good.”

“I think I can handle-” Harry nudged Draco’s ribs. Draco bit his tongue.

Scowling at Draco, Hermione jammed a thermometer into Harry’s mouth. “How’s that fever, hon?”

“Sill oo ‘igh,” Harry mumbled, while playing with the Muggle device with his tongue.

Draco pursed his lips. “I hope you sterilised that thing you put in his mouth, Granger.”

Hermione met his gaze with a sharp glare. “Do shut up, please.” She yanked the glass probe out of Harry’s mouth and read it over, cringing. "Merlin, Harry..." She shook it briskly and put it back in its case. She gripped his arm and tugged. “You need to get back to bed.”

Draco huffed, tugging him back. “I can put him to bed, thank you. And don’t touch him.”

Harry groaned pathetically as he broke away from Draco, stood up and stumbled off. "Off to bed then."

“Well,” Hermione said, shrugging as she watched him leave, “I’ll be in the dungeons if you need me, Harry.”

She turned on Draco, shoving him back into the couch as he tried to stand up and follow Harry. A threatening finger poked him on his nose. “Are you blind? Do you even care about him at all? Can’t you keep your damned hands off of him for one whole day? Let his body recuperate or I’ll separate the two of you permanently! I swear to God, _ferret_.” With a flip of her frizzy hair, she was gone before Draco recovered from stunned shock.

* * *

“So what can you tell me?” Dolores Umbridge looked a lot less pompous than usual. Her hair fell flat against her cheeks, her posture was slumped, and even her bow seemed to sag. All of the awful painted kittens in the portraits surrounding her sat languidly within their frames.

Savage held up a report. “The best news I have is that that Hermione Weasley woman broke her conditions for house arrest. She’s been using the floo network illegally, visiting somewhere not connected to our legal specifications. My guess is Potter.”

“Yes,” breathed Dolores. “Well, if we can’t get him out…and she’s going in…perhaps we can use her to bring him out.”

“That’s exactly what I was thinking. The only problem is her husband. We would have to ‘incapacitate him’ if you plan on using an Unforgivable on his wife. He’ll know instantly if she’s been put under the Imperious Curse.”

Dolores’s bow stiffened. “So incapacitate him, Savage. That’s what I pay you for, isn’t it?’

* * *

Tapping at the tiny gold watch on her chubby wrist, the Minister of Magic began to sweat. Could she tell the man she was waiting on about the report of Potter being so ill? Would he still pay? No, she would not tell him.

The burning fireplace in her bedroom sizzled. Emerald flames burst into the room. Dolores heaved in a mighty breath of trepidation as the head of a very handsome man appeared and turned to face her.

“Have you even made a bit of progress, Umbridge? Your time and mine is running short. One million Galleons are at stake here. Without Potter in my possession soon I will have to alter this deal.”

“Yes, I am working on this, sir.” Dolores coughed and fanned at the green flames sprouted around the dark head in her fireplace, trying to discern who the anonymous man might be. “I’ve got my best Aurors trying to lure him out…and a Veela. They are working around the clock on ways to-”

“Aurors, you say? I told you no Aurors from the beginning!”

Dolores nearly fainted. She pressed her hands together in pleading. “Oh no, they’re very discreet! They’re two of my personal best. They are very loyal to me…more than the Ministry. They said they would also retrieve the boy as well, if you needed him…for an extra fee, of course.”

The handsome man shook his head. “Potter is the only one I want. He’s the one with the gift to unlock the thing I need opened. He needs to be protected and preserved for my master’s return. The boy will come on his own when he is ready.”

Umbridge frowned in disappointment. “Of course, it may take some time…he and Snape have disappeared once more. There is a plan in place though, a good one.”

“Remember what I said about him. He is to be unharmed and unmarked. I’ve been given information that concerns me. This Untouchable curse he bears will need to be negated, although I prefer it not to be. My master really hoped it would stay in place but was prepared to remove it if it endangered his life.”

Dolores’s eyes lit up. He knew. “You can do that?”

The man gave a sharp nod. “You will need to compile the ingredients. I am sending a list of them needed to create the potion to annul it. Have your best potion masters on it. It must be followed precisely, it takes a lot of time to brew all of the key ingredients. Touching Potter for too long can seriously harm him, and I cannot risk that. If he is permanently injured or dies, I kill all of you without hesitation.”

“Oh yes, I’ll have them working on this immediately. So, this umm err…curse he has, you said it could harm him to be overly touched? What exactly might happen to him if he were…you know…touched too much?”

“It would overrun his body, like a machine without oil that cannot be refilled. I’ve heard a rumour that he might be ill. This will not do. If he dies before my master arrives-”

“Who is this man you speak of? Who is your master?” breathed Dolores, looking at him curiously.

“I am not practiced enough to bite my tongue yet, it seems.” His malevolent smile frightened her. “I’ve said too much. You know how to reach me when you have him. Remember what I said… I will retrieve him from you the moment you have him… Unharmed, unmarked.”

He vanished before she could reply. Within seconds, an ugly and weathered owl swooped down and landed on her perch, extending its leg to her. A large scroll weighted it down. Grabbing the list, she bustled off, back to the Ministry of Magic.

* * *

“So this is what I’m thinking…”

Harry snuggled into Draco’s side, resting his forehead on the cool silk of his dressing gown. “Go on,” he said in a scratchy voice. Three months had passed since the snake incident but Harry had yet to recover from its bite.

“Once the baby is born, you, me, Cissy, Marvolo, the baby, and maybe Severus...haven’t decided yet…can find a place somewhere else. Maybe another country altogether, like someplace Slavic – where no one will know us or find us there. I’ll live like a Muggle and do all of the grocery shopping and learn to drive an auto and everything. You can take care of the children. You’re much better at it than I am. How does that sound?”

Harry smiled at him. “You’d do that?”

Draco looked away, hiding the unease he could not conceal. The spot where Harry’s forehead was touching him was soaked with sweat. “Well, you’ve got to get better. You’ve got to eat something and try and walk. I’ll help you with that. I want you to get well, Harry.”

“Can’t,” Harry whispered, his voice was shaky, torn. He gripped Draco’s arm from fear as he looked at the dark spot in the corner of the bedroom. “He’s watching me again.”

The figure of a man, very tall and dusky haired, with glinting crimson eyes was standing there again, watching them.

“Stop that talk. He’s not here. You’re just imagining him again, sweetheart.” Draco waved his wand, turning the lights on in the room. He pointed at the spot. “See? It's just a hallucination. He’s not really there.”

Harry stared at the corner of the room for a moment and then nodded. “Oh yeah, he’s gone.”

The light had gone out in Harry’s eyes. He shivered despite the heat. He slept all day and became frighteningly delusional at night. It was heart wrenching for Draco to watch his lover slowly die, and to know that he had caused it.

The advice Hermione had given him finally sunk in: touching Harry was bad. It drained him, made him weak no matter how powerful he seemed while he was being touched. He had not eaten or held anything down in over ten days. He was rapidly deteriorating before their eyes. His body struggled to maintain the growth inside of him and keep him alive at the same time. Without the blessed healing curse in place, he surely would have died more than a month ago.

He was so frail. His delicate hand clenched at Draco’s dressing gown as another wave of pain and nausea gripped him. Draco helped over the side of the bed, holding his hair from his face as he vomited into a bucket. “What would you like more; a dog or a cat?” he asked, keeping Harry focused on the future they were going to have together. “I think a dog would be nice, a real big one.”

Harry coughed and choked, sobbing as tears rolled down his cheeks while he fought to stop the dry heaves overwhelming him. He fell back into bed while Draco wiped the saliva from his chin. Bravely, he smiled at him and patted his arm. “A dog would be great. The children would love it.”

“FUCK!” cried Draco vehemently. He felt himself crumbling. He drained his wineglass, hoping it would stop his persistent case of the shakes. Several deep breaths later he regained his posture and continued. He smiled at Harry, who was looking up at him doe-eyed. “We’ll live in the middle of nothing. No media, no Ministry, no more trouble. We’ll grow old and sit on the stoop all day drinking tea.”

Harry nuzzled in closer, wrapping his arm around Draco’s waist. “You really want to stay with me after this is over? I would have thought you’d wash your hands of me.”

“Oh, Harry…Oh, Gods…” Draco carefully lifted Harry’s chin, avoiding any skin to skin contact. “How many times do I have to tell you I love you before you believe me?”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Harry said.

Draco's chin crinkled with sadness. It didn't matter whether the baby was a male, or if it was ever born now. All he wanted to do was save Harry from this pain. He would concede to Matilda, give her everything and beg her to spare their little daughter. He didn't care whether he died any more. He would die along with Harry, as long as they were together. “Don’t be sorry. I want you to get better. It’s all I think about. As badly as I want to hold you in my arms and kiss you all over, I’ll wait as long as I have to. I’ll do whatever it takes to make you well.”

Harry closed his eyes. Two fat tears leaked from the outer corners and dampened his temples. "We're going to be fine, Malfoy...Draco." He smiled, with his eyes still closed, in fear the man with the crimson eyes might be back. "I can feel it. If we could survive Lord Voldemort - we can survive anything. We're going to get through this."

* * *

Hermione groaned, pulling the roll-neck over her head and tossing it across the room. “It doesn’t fit anymore. Nothing fits. I hate this so much.” She stood in front of her bathroom mirror with a look of disgust. “I’ll bet I’m having twins. I’m so goddamn big already.”

Ron chortled and waved his wand over the discarded garment. “Try it on now.”

Hermione gasped. “You didn’t stretch it all out, did you?”

With a confused goggle, Ron returned the roll-neck back to its original size. “That’s what you wanted, wasn’t— I don’t understand what… are you trying to start another fight with me?”

Hermione smiled sadly and pulled him into a hug. “I’m sorry, Won-Won. I’ve been a bit crotchety lately.”

“I’ll say,” he mouthed over her shoulder. “Aw, c’mon, you’ve been so busy with Harry and the stress it’s put on you is wearing you out. Why don’t you take a break for a while? I’ll take some time off and go stay with him this week.”

She looked up at him thoughtfully. Some time off did not sound like that bad of an idea. As much as she wanted to help out, it was so difficult to ignore her loathe for the former Slytherin and his constant taunting. Her patience had worn thin, his vocabulary for making her uncomfortable was vast. As long as Harry stayed on schedule with Ron there, it would be practically the same as her being with him. “I’ll give you the potions he needs to take everyday. I have a list of times and doses. And you’ve got to keep on Malfoy, make certain he’s not touching him. He’s an unthinking piss-drunk fool who cares about nothing but himself.”

Ron rubbed her back in small circles. “Yeah, all right, Herm-own-ninny, I reckon I can handle that.”

“And there’s something else,” she said cautiously.

Ron watched her cross the room and rummage through her over-sized bag. She pulled out a small notebook and quill and set it down on the table. “Take that with you. Tap the quill on the paper whenever you and Marvolo are in the same room. It’s very important. Do it every day, but don’t let anyone know what it is.”

Lifting the notebook up, flipping through the pages, Ron scratched his head in confusion. “You’re taking his measurements? Why?”

Hermione chewed on her thumbnail for a moment as she read the progressive measurements she had already taken over his shoulder. “Because he’s growing much too fast—physically and mentally. I think Harry suspects something but he waved me off when I asked him about it last week. According to this - Marvolo’s the size of a seven year old boy now. He speaks like an adult. I noticed the accelerated development shortly after Harry got him and Snape away from Lucius Malfoy. The Death Eaters did something to him, Ron. I don’t know what yet, but I’m going to find out.”

* * *

Ron wrung his hands as he sat in the overstuffed chair his normally relaxed in. He could hardly believe how fragile Harry had become. It was a pitiful sight, him lying on the couch in front of him stretched out and unable to hold his head up for more than a few seconds at a time.He couldn’t remember him looking this badly in the camps. “What the hell did he do to you?” he said bluntly. “Is he still touching you?”

Harry rolled his eyes to the ceiling. “Honestly, I feel so much better than I have in a while. And no, he’s not touching me. Been a while now, months. Tell Hermione to relax.”

“She told me what was going on, you know. You look terrible,” Ron added, prepared to hex Malfoy into ash if he happened to enter the room any time soon.

“Thanks for reminding me. You’re too kind,” teased Harry.

Ron gave him a devilish look. He leaned in closer and whispered, “Get rid of the bloody thing. We’ll find a way. Get rid of it, I’ll off Malfoy and it’s done- Vow broken.”

Harry snorted. It was somewhat flattering hearing him banter in such a way, as morbid as the subject was. He was almost certain he was jesting, but the glint in his eye gave him pause. “You know I can’t do that.”

Ron smirked and looked around the room to be sure they were alone. “Come on, no one will even ask where’s he’s gone. I’ll do his father in too; it’d be my pleasure, actually, a real night to remember.”

“You’re forgetting about Cissy, Ron.” His former classmate pursed his lips. “She might wonder what happened to him.”

Ron shrugged in defeat. “Well, you just lie there and waste away to nothing while he runs off doing whatever it is he does all day. She’d be okay. Children get over death pretty well, that’s a fact. From what I’ve seen you’re more of a father to her than he is.”

Harry waved him back in his seat, done with this conversation. “That’s not true. He’s a wonderful father. And I’ve fallen in love with him.”

“Oh, no, no, no, hate when you say that…” Ron muttered, screwing his eyes shut while resting back into his chair, shaking his head with utter distaste. “Makes my skin crawl. Mind if I borrow your bucket there?”

Harry gestured to the bucket. “Be my guest.”

Ron shrugged in defeat. “Fine, you win again, I won’t kill him. Is he even here?”

Harry shook his head. “He and Cissy are visiting his father for the afternoon” He waved that off and leaned in a bit. “Tell me how Hermione’s doing.”

Ron grinned for the first time since he had arrived. “Oh, she’s doing great. She feels well, at least. That healing curse took care of all of her morning sickness and aches and pains. She’s moody as hell more often than not anymore. We’re just over the moon about the baby, though. She’s-” Marvolo entered the room holding a cup and saucer. Ron twitched to grab the notebook in his pocket.

The boy’s once chubby cheeks had slimmed and hollowed, his face matured, more chiselled than babyish anymore. He was very tall and lean and sauntered into the room with a supercilious air. He looked a lot less like Harry than Ron remembered, and a lot more like the man who had re-figured himself shortly after the war began. He looked very much like Lord Voldemort.

“My, you’ve really grown,” commented Ron, surreptitiously pulling the pad of paper from his pocket.

Harry thanked him for the tea and patted the couch. “Sit down for a moment and tell Ron all about our adventure last week with the portrait of Sirius’s mother.”

“Oh, she’s awful!” Marvolo plopped down by Harry’s feet, his eyes fixed on his father rather than Ron. “She called Draco a blood traitor and told us all to get out…but I think she has a crush on Uncle Sev.”

Ron nodded. He pretended to fully listen to them, keeping his expression passive after discovering the boy had grown nearly five centimetres since Hermione’s last visit. “I had always hoped someone would set fire to that damned thing,” he said, looking up at Harry.

Harry set his teacup down with difficulty. The china clattered noisily against the saucer. “Tried it, didn’t light. Draco took an axe to it one night too, managed to crack the frame but that was about it.” With a pained sigh, his head slumped into his pillow and his throat tightened up. “I’m sorry…I need to rest a moment.”

Marvolo moved closer to him and held his teacup to his lips. “Hey, c’mon, it’s okay, just drink some more. Draco gave me that stuff to put in it to help your stomach,” he said in a voice that surprised Ron. There was a genuine tone of concern that could hardly be feigned by a child. He patted Harry’s shoulder and gave it a brisk rub. “Come on, daddy. Take another sip, please. I’m so worried about you.”

After a few seconds and several attempted sips, the colour in Harry’s cheeks returned. Marvolo smiled at him as he set the cup on the floor to straighten the sheet over Harry’s torso. “Thanks, sweetheart,” said Harry.

“Marvolo, how have you been doing lately?” said Ron, curious to hear the boy speak again.

“Oh fine,” he said, tipping his head to give Ron a smile. He was sitting on the floor by Harry. His endlessly-long legs and knobby knees were pulled up to his chest. “I’ve been trying to teach Cissy her letters. She can say her alphabet now. She’s part Veela, Uncle Ron. Did you know that?” He was curious to see if Ron was as prejudiced against Cissy as Severus had been.

“Do you know what a Veela is?” he quipped in return. The boy was far more advanced than a typical four year old. He could probably give most first years in Hogwarts a run for their money.

“Hmm, no, actually,” said Marvolo with a knitted brow. He looked back at his father, tipping his head. “What is a Veela, daddy?”

“Er…They’re like…like nymphs or something,” he mumbled, not really sure himself.

Marvolo looked slightly more confused. “Oh… But what’s a nymph?”

“Just a…they’re like…” Harry looked at Ron with a bitten lip to suppress his silly expression. “You tell him, Ron.”

Ron chuckled. “They’re mystical creatures who have a strong allure to men. That’s probably too much information for a four year old, I guess. Anyhow,” he looked at Harry as he spoke, watching his expression carefully. “While I’ve got you here, Marvolo, could I ask you a few questions?”

Marvolo shrugged. “Sure.”

“Do you remember anything about the time you spent with Malfoy’s father and his sister-in-law?”

Marvolo’s eyes narrowed sharply. Harry’s lips parted in question. “Oh, yes. It was awful.”

“Besides Mafloy’s father and that woman, did anyone else come and visit you and Snape?” He knew Snape’s memory had been altered from most of the incident, but was hoping they had forgotten to alter the child’s.

“Yes,” he said. He looked down, picking at a scab on his knee. “There was a very tall man who came to visit.”

Ron sat forward, pad and quill in hand. “Do you remember his name?”

“What are you on about, Ron?” Harry sat up from the couch, shaking to hold himself steady.

“Lie down, Har. I’m just asking questions.”

Marvolo shook his head. “No, hmm, I don’t remember,” he said, for the first time since he’d arrived sounding like a small child. “I didn’t like him, he hurt Uncle Sev.”

“Why didn’t you tell me this?” said Harry.

“I didn’t remember before. He just came once for a few minutes, made everyone scared.”

Ron felt his muscles tense up. He glanced over to Harry, seeing the concerned posture overwhelming his frailty. “Har, maybe you should head to your room.”

“No,” he replied. He looked down at Marvolo. “Was his name Morfin?”

Marvolo’s eyes lit up, he gave him a nod. “Yes, that was it. Morfin.”

Ron dropped out of his chair to kneel beside the boy, throwing his hand out behind him to force Harry back in his seat. “Hey, one more thing,” he said calmly despite feeling Harry trembling against the palm of his hand. “Did he give you anything to swallow? Like a bottle of something or a drink?”

Again, Marvolo’s eyes lit up and he nodded. “Yes, a potion. He said daddy would be in danger if I didn’t swallow it whole, so I drank it.”

Ron sat in stunned shock for a moment, but Harry began to weep. As carefully as he could, he pulled a glove on and took Marvolo’s hand to bring him up into his embrace.

“I’m so sorry, daddy,” he whispered on his father’s shoulder. “Did I do something wrong?”

“No, not a thing,” Harry managed between wracks of wet sniffling.

Ron patted the boy’s shoulder. “Not at all, Marvolo. I’ve got to go. I need you to take really good care of your daddy for me while I’m away. There’s a list of his potions on the crisper. I’ll be back as soon as I can.” He looked at Harry, who had his glasses off and his eyes closed, hugging and rocking the boy in his arms while he bit down hard on his bottom lip to stop himself from crying. “Har, you need to tell Severus. I’m going to get Hermione.”

* * *

Stepping into his sitting room, Ron pulled his wand arm back, ready to strike. Instinctively, the warm glow of a shield charm buzzed around him. His breath was caught in his throat, his eyes wide and searching. “Hermione?” he said aloud, panicked, sensing the strange atmosphere of still quiet. No pets were scampering about, no sound had been made other than the wards to his home humming from a breach.

Proudfoot looked up from the armchair he was sitting in. His wand was pointed at Ron’s heart. “Drop the shield, Weasley,” he warned, flicking it at him. “Your wife is safe, and she will remain so if you cooperate with us.”

“You bastard- You foul, traitorous bastard.” The shield dissipated.

“Coming from a man hiding two wanted criminals from the Ministry? - _Stupefy_ -! That’s rich.”

* * *

In the darkness, padding his way to the kitchen, eyes closed, mug in hand, Draco nearly ploughed over the small woman standing dazedly between the hallway and the kitchen nook.

“Whoa!” he exclaimed and jumped with a start. His lip curled in a sneer and he backed up against the wall, adjusting his dressing gown over his nudity. “I’m positive you aren’t supposed to be here this week. Not to mention in the middle of the bloody night.” He pushed past Hermione and grabbed a jug of pumpkin juice out of the crisper.

“Where is Harry?” she said in a dreamlike voice. “I have to check his temperature and give him his medicine.” She stood there like a mannequin, staring off into the hallway.

Draco gaped at her for a moment too long. Pumpkin juice dribbled out over the lip of the mug he was pouring it into. “ _Damnit!_ Look, go home, Weasley. I’ve got him covered, alright? It’s two in the morning.”

“I…I suppose I could come back tomorrow,” she said, fretting with something shiny in her hands. “But I’ve got to give him his medicine. It’s very important.”

Draco snatched it from her. “You, huh? _I can do that_. Go. Away,” he repeated in irritation. He prodded her along toward the sitting room, spilling droplets of juice on the floor in a trail of liquid orange. He gave her a hefty push toward the fireplace. “Good-bye, now, don’t come back… Completely fucking nutters…”

The instant she stepped inside the fireplace and disappeared, Draco pulled his wand out and bricked it up. “No more of that, I’d say.”

* * *

Harry’s face was in his hands. Soft frightened sighs resounded off of his palms. He was standing there watching him again; the man with the crimson eyes. Several calming potions and Draco’s soothing assurances later, his hands remained over his face and his pleas for him to disappear continued.

Draco fiddled with the tiny bottle he nicked from Hermione. The cork had come loose. He flicked it off and poured the contents into the glass mug he was carrying. The liquid instantly bubbled and spit, the colour darkened into a unnatural shade of violet-brown and the head swirled and foamed with lustrous prismatic mother-of-pearl. As he re-entered the master bedroom he groaned a disappointed breath. “Oh, for fuck’s sake, Harry.”

“I know…he’s not really there,” he said, but his hands stayed put.

“Come on now, you know it’s the fever.”

“Make him go away.”

Draco flipped the lights on and pointed at the usual corner.

Bright green eyes appeared between his fingers to scan the room. His body went loose as his tension melted away. “Yeah, he’s gone now,” he said, taking the spattering glass from him. His hand shook madly as he raised it to his lips.

Draco sat beside him to steady the mug while he sipped it. “Barking, that woman,” he said, “in our kitchen at two in the morning standing there like a zombie.”

Harry looked up from his pumpkin juice. “Hermione?”

“Yes. I think someone forgot to lock the cage. Remind Ron next time you see him.”

“Oh, she’s just going through a lot of stress right now. You have no idea how her mind works,” said Harry. He took another gulp of juice. It settled his stomach almost immediately. He sipped it again, knowing he would be able to hold it down. “Wow…” he whispered, looking into the cup. He drained the last of it in one large gulp.

“Well, that problem has been taken care of anyway. I bricked-”

“Did you put something in this?” Harry grabbed his arm and shook him. He seemed to be frozen solid with astonishment. He felt re energised. “Did you?”

Draco looked down at his arm where Harry was touching him. Nothing was covering it. “Harry, are you touching me?”

He held on to him, unable to pull away. “I am, aren’t I?”

They were both whispering as if they had done something wrong and had to hide it from whoever might be listening. There was a long pause between each of their questions, letting the realisation slowly sink in.

Draco felt a heated flush coating his skin, suddenly, washing away the very subtle remnants of a morose dark magic. His breath caught in his throat, and his eyes rolled back into his head. “Do you feel that…it’s touching me…How are you doing that?”

Harry’s eyes clouded snow-white. His head lolled onto Draco’s shoulder as he slumped back against the bedstead. The mug rolled off the bed and shattered on the floor. “Did you…put something…was it in my juice?”

As abruptly as it started, the spell lifted. Draco’s head bobbed up and down. His half of their vow had been fulfilled. “I did.”

The sudden grin on Harry’s face could have cut diamonds. He looked up at the white-haired man shaking with glee. “Well—what was it!?”

“Er…I thought it was your medicine. Hermione said she had…she had to give it…” And as he thought on it, the woman was acting even more strange than her typical bizarre self. Draco reached out and touched Harry with the tip of his index finger to test their contact again. Nothing happened. “How do you feel?”

Harry sat silent for a few seconds, gaping back at him in disbelief. “I feel fine!” he blurted. “Fantastic!” He threw his legs over the side of the bed and stood up. He immediately fell over.

“Oh Merlin, Potter!” Draco slid across the bed and dove onto the floor beside him.

Harry laughed, uncaring whether he had the strength to stand. “Still weak, I guess.” He gripped Draco’s extended hand and let him help him to his feet. There was a flutter within him that would not stop growing. The raw glee spread to every part of his being. “This is brilliant. I don’t know how she managed it. Do you think it’ll last?”

Draco was not as thrilled as Harry. He wanted to be, but something was prickling at his conscience. Hermione’s odd behaviour, to be exact. “I don’t know. Let’s not get too hasty yet, there has to be a plausible reason for this. Nothing’s ever handed to us this easily.”

* * *

“What is the meaning of this?” Snape stood in his doorway wrapped snugly in a crisp black sheet. He was not happy about being woken up in the dead of the night.

Harry reached out and touched his exposed forearm. “This is the meaning of this.”

Snape continued to stare at him.

“We didn’t use the counter-curse,” added Harry, poking the man again and again. “I’m not weakened from contact. It’s real.”

Snape’s eyebrows rose up. He snatched Harry’s hand, watching him closely as he held it. His eyes narrowed and shifted between the two men. “How is this possible?”

“We don’t know!” he exclaimed. “Hermione gave Draco a potion tonight, told him it was my medicine.”

Snape released Harry and spun on Draco. “Where is this medicine?”

Draco handed him the empty bottle.

Severus held the thin glass bauble up to the light. He sniffed the cork and tasted the tip. “No, not his medicine for certain. I know these herbs,” he whispered, closing his eyes, gritting his teeth. “So complex. Think, think, think…” Without losing concentration, he addressed Harry once more. “What did it taste like?”

“It was, Er, I don’t know, sweet, eggy. Sort of thick and fizzy, went down quite easily. It was mixed with pumpkin juice,” he said. He and Draco exchanged giddy and hopping glances at one another as they stood silent waiting for Snape to speak.

“Hellebore, ashwinder eggs, a hint of lovage… and so many ingredients from so many previously brewed potions all concentrated and extracted into this bottle. This is an amazing discovery.” He looked up the two men bouncing in place in front of him and frowned. “There’s no way in hell Miss Weasley made this potion.”

Draco held Harry upright after he began to lose his balance. “So who do you think made this, Sev?”

Snape crinkled his nose and looked away. “No idea. You say Miss Weasley was here this evening?”

“Not twenty minutes ago,” Draco informed him, giving him a firm look. “Strangest thing, really, like she was sleep-walking _or_ …”

“Under the Imperious Curse,” finished Snape, looking back at him with the same decisive gaze.

Draco nodded as he tightened his grip around Harry’s waist. He held on solidly, feeling him tense up in his arms. “I blocked the fireplace after I shoved her back inside.”

Harry looked between both men with worry. “Imperious Curse? You chucked her out? You didn’t tell me that!”

“Good thinking,” said Snape, ignoring Harry. He retreated back into his room and started rifling through his wardrobe. He looked back at the two men and sneered, his finger pointed directly at Harry. “Escort the hero back to his room. He does not move until I have more answers.”

“No, someone has to check on them!” shouted Harry, struggling to break out of the blonde’s hold. Draco hefted him up and dragged him off and threw him onto the bed, locking the door, putting his back to it.

“You can’t keep me locked up like a prisoner when my friends could be in danger!” Harry began gathering his clothes, grumbling, huffing, sneering at Draco as he paced around the room.

“Yes, I can. Shut your yap.”

Harry buttoned the last button on his shirt and tied his trainers, ignoring the wand pointed directly at him. He stumbled and slipped, landing on the bed with a whooshing thud. Pushing himself up quickly, he threw his head back, gritted his teeth and smirked back at Draco. “I’m fine, just lost my balance.”

“Lie down, git,” said Draco flatly while continuously flicking his wand at him, “or I’ll knock your arse out and put you down myself - and you do not want that.”

Harry stood back up and balled his hands into fists. “You’re forgetting something, Malfoy,” he hissed, looking very angry and raising his hand up in the air, “I don’t need a wand to move you out of the way. Now step aside.”

“On the bed, orphan.” Draco faked a yawn. There was a knock at the door behind him. He opened it and Snape stepped inside pointing a wand at Harry. “Move, Draco,” he said, shoving him away from the door. Harry gasped. “– _Stupefy_ -!”

“He’s going to be very unhappy about that,” mumbled Draco under his breath, shrugging.

Snape conjured up a rope and tossed it at the blond. “We don’t have time to baby-sit him – I need your help.”

　


	8. Neville's Boy and the Veela

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With time running out, Harry makes a decision that could turn ugly very easily.

　

A flash of silvery floo powder ignited the flames. They burned a brilliant emerald, filling the room with an eerie hue. “Lucius Malfoy!” shouted Draco. He stood back a pace, joining Severus’s side and waited.

After what seemed like hours, Lucius’s head hovered within the flames. “This had better be good,” he drawled, looking sleepy.

“What are you up to now? Who brewed the potion?” questioned Snape. He was visibly irritated. “I can only assume Miss Weasley half-managed to throw off the Unforgivable due to suffering from the healing curse and that is why we have averted you fools once more. Now tell me who’s behind this.”

Lucius grinned impishly. “They’re using the Mudblood to try and drag him out now, eh? Bloody fools. They should have asked me; I would have used her Auror husband. He’s much stronger.”

“Father,” said Draco. He appeared as anxious and worn out as Harry had while trying to escape. “Why can’t you just swallow your pride and help us out here? Why are you doing this?”

The smirk on the elder Malfoy’s face fell flat. He looked hurt. “No, no,” he said softly. “I’m not doing it. I told you before; I am on your side. Umbridge and that Dark Lord reject are your culprits. He’s offered her a lot of gold. I only want that baby.”

“Him again,” said Snape, a growl steadily rising from his throat. “Where did you hear this?”

“In Azkaban. They brought in Mulcibur not too long ago. He told me the Longbottom spawn offered the Minister a million Galleons for Potter’s kidnapping. He also ordered Bellatrix to the villa to try and kidnap him there. And speaking of which…Where is she?”

Ignoring the question, Snape clenched his teeth. “We need to put an end to him once and for all.”

Lucius gave him a shrug. “I agree.”

Severus’s breath hitched and his face drained in colour, so shocked at the lack of interest in their peril. “Lucius, help us out. I risked my life for your son once…you owe me.”

“I can only tell you this, and it is no easy thing,” he said in solemn, “Mulcibur hinted at something else that greatly disturbed me. He said that the child, Marvolo, was given something to help him along with his journey. I am afraid it means-”

“Yes, I know,” said Snape. “There is nothing I can do about that. Marvolo will mature to the age of seventeen within the month.”

Draco blanched. “What?!”

Snape shook him off. “Lucius, it is imperative that you try and get in communication with the Weasleys. I must seal this connection and I do not know when it will be reopened. Whatever you find out, send it by owl.”

Giving him a nod and Draco a brief smile, Lucius vanished.

* * *

Heaving in a deep breath, Draco opened the bedroom door and stepped inside. Harry was not where he left him. His heart stuck in his throat as he scanned the room.

“I’m down here, troll.”

Draco leapt on the bed and looked over the side. Harry glared up at him from the floor. His feet were propped up on the wall separating their room from the children’s. “Were you trying to wake the children up to help you?”

“Maybe,” Harry said, giving it once last thrusting kick. “Bloody old houses and their thick walls.” He rolled onto his side, letting the blood flow return to his arms. “Are you going to sit there all night?”

“Maybe,” he said in return, leering at him.

Harry gasped. “But Hermione and Ron-”

“We’ve got someone looking into their whereabouts. You know damn well what will happen if I let you leave.” He got down and hefted Harry up, then shoved him onto the bed.

“You know there’s no way in hell I can sleep right now. Draco, let me go!”

Against his better judgement to strangle the begging pleas out of the man, Draco, instead, leaned up against him and covered his mouth with his own. It was as if he had forgotten the taste, the feel of their tongues sweeping along the other. Harry’s head was thrust back into a pillow under the bruising pressure of Draco’s lips and rough hands. The intense frustration from the unknown status of his two most beloved friends could hardly compel him to remain still. He groaned beneath him in desperate attempt to let him feel his pain. “No way I’ll let you leave,” whispered Draco against his mouth. His voice was harsh, husky and completely fucking sexed. “No. Bloody. Way.”

With a defeated sob, Harry tipped his head and pressed his lips against Draco’s. Tremendous guilt seeped from his pores, but the undeniable thirst to touch this man overpowered him. Running off blindly would be suicide. Perhaps one half of the curse had been completed but the other had full month of gestation left. If he got hurt and lost the baby - he and Draco would still die.

Draco had his jeans off of his hips and his shirt torn open before he fumbled with the draw tie of his own dressing gown. He curled into him, pressing his body against Harry’s skin. No pain, no horror to endure any longer. He could touch Harry freely. Wand in hand, he cast a counter-spell to dissipate the rope.

Harry wrapped his arms around his neck. The kiss deepened as he shimmied out of the remnants of his clothes. “Love you so much,” he breathed through bloodied lips, tugging the silk strands of hair cascading through his fingers.

“C’mere, you,” purred Draco, pulling him into his arms. He nudged his knee between Harry’s thighs, locking their hips. Their cocks were trapped between them, rubbing deliciously together with each movement. Harry sucked at his throat, tonguing his pulse point in lingering laps. Their legs twined, their hands roamed over the other’s chests, and they arched in unspeakable ecstasy. Draco grabbed a shock of dark messy hair, wrenching Harry’s head back. “Fucking love you, Potter,” he hissed, and dipped his tongue in his mouth. He mewed in sweet response to Harry’s fingers, feeling them wrap so delicately around his virile manhood.

“Fucking love this, Malfoy,” growled Harry, giving Draco a shove back into the bedding. “~ _This is mine.~_ ” Draco was not sure what he had said, the words slipped from his tongue in a hiss but it sounded wonderful, whatever it meant. What he had dreamt of, the moment their intimacy could stand without fear of pain, had finally arrived. Harry kissed the head of his cock and ran his thumb slowly up the base. His eyes were locked with Draco’s. He kissed it again; his lips parting over the skin, his tongue resting on his lip. He ran the tip of it along the engorged length in thick strokes, languishing at the euphoric expression on Draco’s face. “Lie back,” he whispered, giving the head a swift slicking lap as Draco’s mouth opened to speak.

“Oh Merlin, yeah, okay,” he moaned through panting breaths. He was on his elbows with his head lolled back. He parted his thighs as Harry leaned in, trapping the head of his prick between his lips.

* * *

The sun began to rise. Harry sat up abruptly and looked to his side. Draco was fast asleep with his leg draped over his bare hip. The curse was still nullified. It hadn’t been a dream. Careful not to wake him, he slid the leg downward until it came in contact with the mattress. He just needed to try the floo network to be sure Hermione and Ron were all right. The fireplace was bricked up in their room. He silently slipped from the bed and tiptoed to the door. He turned the knob, but the door would not open.

“It’s been sealed, Harry, come back to bed,” groaned Draco.

“But you can open it, right?”

“Not for you, come back to bed.”

Harry made a face and kicked the wall. “How are we supposed to know anything? What if I need to use the loo? I want to hold Marvolo! Open the damn door!”

“I’m leaving soon. I need you to shut the fuck up and care for the children while we’re gone.” Draco was already standing, pulling a shirt on. “We’re gonna off that motherfucker, Morfin. Snape thinks he knows where he is. Look, Harry,” he said pulling the dark haired man away from the door.

Harry looked at him in confusion. “Off Morfin? No, there’s no need-”

“If anything happens to us,” Draco continued, lost in a sadness Harry hadn’t noticed until then. “Promise me you’ll take care of my daughter. My father can’t do it. He wouldn’t raise her like you would.”

“Don’t say that,” Harry said, looking grim as if he’d never thought so intimately about death before, no matter how close he’d come to it at any time. This time it would truly mean something. He knew they were using Hermione again as a sort of bait to unearth them, and it hurt so deeply to think that her life seemed so unimportant to a few when it meant everything to him. It brought tears to his eyes thinking of the horrors she had suffered and would always suffer because of him. She had never hurt a fly but had been hurt endlessly over blood status. And she was pregnant and surely thinking about only that as her life dangled by a thread - because of him - again.

And now Draco was entrusting him with the one thing in the world that kept him human. He was willing to die to keep her alive, to keep him alive. With his back turned to him to lace his shoe, Harry frowned and shook his head ever so slightly. “I’m sorry, I can’t let you do this,” he said under his breath, his mind set in stone and his hand in the air to put a stop to this madness once and for all.

* * *

After kissing and hugging Marvolo and Narcissa without the counter-curse or a barrier of clothing between them, Harry stepped out onto the street inhaling a shaky breath, looking up to the cloudy sky while he searched for the words to call her. “Are you out there, Veela?” he said softly. “Er, Matilda, I’m here.” This wasn’t the first time he felt her presence, there was a strong aura resonating from her like a heat signature pulsing through the air in search of him. He had felt it at the villa when the Death Eater died and again in the garden of 12 Grimmauld Place. He had confirmed it through Draco only minutes before.

“Don’ try to talk me out of zis,” she said to him, suddenly behind him, peering over his shoulder to see his face up close. “’arry Potter, you knew I was out ‘ere, why deed you come out?”

“Because I read his thoughts on you just now.” Without turning around, Harry stood strongly in her presence hoping he hadn’t made a huge mistake. “No matter what he’s told me about you, I know you aren’t the monster he claims you to be. He doesn’t believe it, either, he just hates you. I’ve known true monsters... If you are in any way related to Cissy you can’t possibly be one of them.”

The Veela cringed inwardly, making fists with her hands to endure the growing ache within her soul. “Narcizza is a mizdake.”

Harry flinched at the words, so painful. Why was everyone he loved so rejected. It made no sense to him at all. “You’re wrong. Let me keep her. You’ll get your money, but please let me keep her.”

“Keep her? You’d do that?” And the Veela’s eyes grew large, looking off as she thought on it for a moment. Maybe she did not truly wish death upon that tainted child. She crossed her arms. “You really want her? I would only consider zis if you geeve me Draco.”

Harry shook his head. “I’m keeping him, too.” He prayed that she could not detect magic as he began to plunder her mind. Her brain-waves were so vastly different than Draco’s; jumbled, going in and out of focus, almost like a predatory animal’s would be during a hunt. He made a laughing sound in his throat as he turned the page of her mind and discovered the source of her fury, an ire that had grown strong for the white haired wizard she was married to.

There was another thing clinging to her thoughts. A murder she had committed. Her only murder as of yet, but she liked it. She thought on it often and Harry could understand why. “Tell me,” he said, finally turning to meet her face to face. His breath hitched. Her beauty stunned him briefly. He began rubbing his chin with a little mischievous grin playing on his lips as he looked her over. She was visually breathtaking standing there in the street in front of him, contrasting with the decrepit house she was framed in. “It was you out there that night, wasn’t it? You were at our door, you killed her.”

Matilda instantly smiled. “Ze weetch?”

“Mhmm,” Harry said. “Did you kill her for me?”

Her eyes flitted up and to the side as she recalled her encounter with Bellatrix. She began to giggle. The smile grew large and unabashedly flooded with memorable laughter. She gave him a gleeful nod. “She peezzed me off.” She covered her mouth to regain control before running her fingers through her hair and wagging them at Harry. “I deed eet a little for you. Bad enough you ‘ave to live wiff ‘im, you don’t need to be worrying about ‘er, too.” He was more fascinating than she’d even hoped. So different than her husband. “You are so deefrent from ‘im.”

Harry smiled. “Thank you. I mean that.”

Her eyes grew narrow, her head inclined in confusion. “So very deeffrent from ‘im. Why do you love ‘im?”

“Draco?” He returned her somewhat confused posture but smiled like a lovesick teenager. It was very easy to smile when he thought about Draco. “He’s got something. I don’t think even he knows it yet, but he’s pretty special. Look, I will take them both far away. You will never see them again, never have to think of them again. I promise you this.”

As if trying to save him from some terrible mistake he was surely making, she reached out to touch him, to pull him away from the train wreck he was about to become a victim of. “’e is a ‘orrible person. I don’ care if Narcizza is ‘alf Veela, I care zat she is ‘alf ‘im. When Narcizza was born like ‘im it devazdated me.”

He chuckled unconsciously. “And I can understand that. But I promise you she’s not like him at all. She is precious, the sweetest most innocent little angel I’ve ever met. I’m humbled by her.” He began to choke up thinking about losing her in any way. “I will raise her properly. I won’t let him influence her to be like him in any way, let me keep her. I’ll give you anything you want.”

“What if I agree to zis? I geet loads of money and zey dizappear. You want zomzing elze. What do you want from me?”

He reached out to her, taking the hand she had extended to him. “Your help.”

* * *

“Malfoy, do you have him restra- oh, Mordred.” Severus Snape entered the bedroom with a curt wave of his wand and a surely look of disappointment, dissipating the bonds securing Draco to his bed. The blond sat up, spitting the balled up sock out of his mouth and averting his former potions master’s deplorable gaze. “How did he get out?”

“As if this isn’t embarrassing enough. He used the Imperius Curse on me, Sev,” he huffed as he looked around the floor for his shoes. “He’s been gone for a while.” One hit him in the head.

“You knew he’d attempt this. Don’t bother getting dressed, you can’t leave now.”

“I’ll take the children to my father’s. I can’t sit here doing nothing knowing he’s out there. If he dies I die, I’m coming,” he said, ignoring Snape’s warning.

Snape thought on it. “Do hurry up.”

Draco gave him a nod. “I’m on it.”

* * *

Matilda rapped her knuckles on the door she and Harry stood in front of. Her other hand was fisted in his hair to keep him from escaping. “Open up, Minizder,” she shouted, growing extremely annoyed at having to wait. “’urry up, zomeone might zee us.”

“I’m coming!” Delores Umbridge threw the door open and squealed. She grabbed the front of Potter’s shirt and wrenched him into the room. “Close the door, quickly!” Her hand replaced the Veela’s, twisting in the mass of wild hair. She yanked his head down to meet her gaze. His teeth were bared, clenched tight over the silk scarf threaded between them. He growled at her. She scanned over him, touched his face, checked his pupils, made sure his hands were bound firmly behind his back, then shoved him into a chair. “He looks healthy, unharmed, no marks- good.” She turned to the Veela. “Watch him, I’ll alert all of my Aurors that Malfoy will be coming to look for him soon.”

Matilda shrugged. “’Urry up, I want to leave ‘ere as zoon as pozzible.” She looked down at Harry as the squat woman walked away, scrunching her nose. “It zmells like cats in ‘ere.”

Harry agreed.

Umbridge returned, yanking Harry out of the chair. “Your admirer is on his way to get you. I’m afraid this will be the last time we see one another.”

“’Ake ‘is ot,” he tried to say to Matilda, who, in turn reached up and yanked the scarf out of his mouth. “Thank you.” He turned to look at Umbridge. “Oh, you mean Lord Voldemort’s son who plans on restoring his life as soon as he gets his hands on me? That admirer?”

Delores paled. She released him and backed into her sitting room with her hands to her mouth. “No, that’s not possible.”

“ _There you are_.” Everyone turned to face the man standing in the threshold of the room. He was very tall with thick black hair and a strikingly handsome face. His wand was out, pointed at Harry. “You coming willingly or do I need to make you?”

“Willingly,” he replied, stepping in front of Matilda. “Please, Morfin, don’t harm this beautiful Veela I have with me here.”

“A Veela,” Morfin repeated, suddenly surprised and titillated by the woman on the other side of the room. He began moving, taking hastened steps to look at her. His arms were shaking, fists clutched in his excitement. “I’ve been reading up on them ever since the Minister said she had one hunting you, Harry. I’ve never seen one up close before.”

Harry stood firmly between him and her, halting the man’s approach. “I mean it, she’s a protector of Marvolo’s. Do not hurt her.”

“Tell the truth,” the other wizard said with a furrowed brow, briefly glancing at him. His eyes snapped back to Matilda.

Harry stuck his head back in front of his face. “She will be while I’m gone.”

“Alright,” Morfin said, believing him. He shoved him aside, into Umbridge’s arms. “I just want to look at her. They’re supposed to be unnaturally beautiful. Oh, yes, so pretty. I’ve read up on everything I could find about them. You know they can enthral you?”

“Yez, come to me,” she said, and her hair began cascading in waves around her face with no wind to speak of. She took his hands and brought them around her, embracing the man. “I need your ‘elp, beautiful man,” she said seductively. She petted his hair while he basked in her incendiary aura.

“Anything,” he whispered against her breast. His eyes fluttered closed. Never once had he felt the warmth of another person so closely, so intimately before.

“Tell me ‘ow to zdop Marvolo’s age progrezzion, pleaze,” she said as sadly as possible.

“Oh, no, don’t cry, of course I’ll tell you,” he sighed into her dress, hoping he could cheer her up. “There is a potion that will negate the progression. The one he took was merely an augmented ageing potion infused with my master’s genetics, with the reversal removed.”

“And what about zee progrezzion itzelf? Can zat be reverzed?”

“Oh yes, I invented it myself. I’m quite adept with herbs. The progression will be reversed when it’s negated,” he replied through his nuzzling. “It’s instant. It’s very simple.”

Harry tipped his head silently. Matilda nodded. “Do you ‘ave zis potion in your zdores?”

“I do, let me take you there,” he said, wrapping his arms tighter around her, breathing in her wonderful scent.

“That’s not necessary, Morfin,” Harry said, giving Matilda another look. She pulled the man’s arms from around her, breaking their contact. Her dancing hair fell to her shoulders. Harry jerked out of Umbridge’s grasp and stepped between them. “We’re done here. Take me home now.”

“One more zing,” she said, her hair was fluttering again. She leaned into Harry’s back, resting her arms over his shoulders to get closer to the other man. She nuzzled into her hostage’s wild mane. “Ooh, I like zis magical creature. Maybe I beguile ‘im when zis is over,” She whispered. “Beautiful man,” she said, now addressing Morfin. She jerked her head toward Umbridge while she adjusted her scarf to fit snuggly back between Harry’s teeth. She held up a phial of swirling silver smoke in one hand and The Chosen One’s chin in the other. “I want what you promized zat woman zere for zis man ‘ere.”

Morfin was captivated by the Veela once more, his eyes drifting side by side between her and Harry. His dreams had finally come true, his master would be so proud of him and finally accept him as his son. He smiled as brightly as any one person could while his head bobbled up and down in childish enthusiasm. “Of course, the one million galleons are yours.” He took the phial from her, still nodding and smiling as he tore Harry from her grasp. He pointed his wand at Umbridge, his eyes as wide as his smile. “Would you like me to kill her, too? I’ll do it for you. Anything!”

Delores gasped.

She motioned to him to lower his wand. “No, I zink ze life she’ll zuffer in prizon will be deliciouz enough. Be careful with ‘arry, Morfin. I’ll be zere zoon to check in on you.”

Morfin was blushing pink. He wrapped his arm tighter around Harry’s middle, hugging them together. “Oh, yes, I’m just keeping him safe for my master’s return. I’d never hurt him. I’ll see you soon!”

While the deranged wizard dragged Harry over to the fireplace, the Veela raised her palm into the air. A ball of flickering orange fire appeared above it. She smiled at the Minister and pointed to the chair Harry had recently vacated. “Zit, geet comfortable while we wait for my ‘uzband to arrive.”

* * *

“Look, you’ve got to listen to me. If I’m not released the Dark Lord will return! I swear it, we have to save him!”

“Ah!” Matilda rose up from the sofa she was resting on, eyeing Draco, Snape and the Aurors shoving them into Umbridge’s sitting room. Her instinct to snap her husband’s neck grew considerably, fuelled by the delicious look of stone-cold fear he was giving back to her. She tamped it down and smiled. “Draco Malfoy.”

“Oh hell, oh shite,” he mumbled through ragged breaths. Snape was looking between the two and at the ball of fire she was balancing. “Maltilda, I… Oh shite.”

“Kill her!” Umbridge shouted, throwing herself behind her chair. Both Aurors had their wands drawn and pointed at her.

“Your wands,” she said softly, her hair gliding so beautifully around to frame her lovely face once more. “Geeve zem to zese two and floo away.” She dissipated the fire and pointed to her husband and Snape. With great hesitation, both men handed their wands over. She stepped into the centre of the room, gesturing for the arrestees to come to her. She looked at Snape while she jerked a thumb at Umbridge’s chair. “Geet za location of za Weazleys out of ‘er.” She then turned to Draco, grabbing him up by the shirt. “Wipe zat look off your face, drunk. I know where ‘arry Potter is - You need to take me to ‘im.”

* * *

Landing hard through a Side-Along Apparition, Draco shrugged off his wife’s hand with a chilly shudder. “Stop touching me. How did you know to come here?”

“I’ve been following you and ‘im for a while now. ‘e reeks of _you_. Alzo, ‘e told me Morfin would bring ‘im ‘ere.” They both looked around the area. They were standing in the centre of a deserted village. “Up zere,” Matilda said, smacking her husband’s arm very hard to get his attention.

Draco looked up, rubbing the spot as his eyes locked onto an eerie looking mansion built into the top of a hill. For a moment his legs refused to listen. Matilda sneered and shoved him onward. “Not so rough, bint. Don’t forget I have a wand.”

“Juzt keep moving, or I zet you on fire.”

“There are heavy wards here,” Draco murmured, testing the strength with a pebble and a Stinging Jinx.

“Malfoy.” Draco and Matilda whirled around, eyeing Ron approaching them. He waved to them, mostly to Matilda. “Hello there,” he said absently before shaking the aura of attraction out of his mind. “I know some of these wards but it’s going to take a while to strip them off.”

“No need,” Matilda said, directing her attention to the house on top of the hill. “Ze myzdical creature inzide is very mentally immature and unzdable, ‘ighly zuzceptible to my charms. I will zimply ask ‘im to remove ze wards.”

Draco scowled despite the wonderful news. “Why are you helping us? What is this about, harpy?”

“This your wife, Malfoy?” Ron asked, looking her up and down. It hit him them, what she meant about Morfin. “That’s right! Morfin’s technically a five year old boy in an eighteen year old teenager’s body, not to mention the neurological issues he has,” he cried. “And you being a Veela… He won’t be able to resist you, I’m guessing. Blimey!”

“I ‘ave my reazons,” she hissed at Draco while smiling at Ron for understanding her. “’Arry will raise Narcizza to not be like you, you dizgusting drunk.” Wings began sprouting from her shoulders. Her face was twisted in anger. She snarled and shook her head. “Zdop peezzing me off, I need to zday preety for ze beautiful man.”

“Right,” Ron mumbled in awe. He gave Draco a rough shove. “Shut your mouth, ferret.” He gestured to Matilda. “I’ll keep him in line, as you were.”

“Zank you, Mr Weazley,” she replied, returning her concentration on the man inside the mansion.

Ron yanked Draco aside. “Ugh, as much as I hate this you’ve got to stick really close to me under here.” He unravelled Harry’s old Invisibility Cloak. It was tattered, the edges charred but it was intact. It had been Harry’s and Snape’s means of escape from Riddle House the first time and would now serve to aid in the former Gryffindor’s second removal. “We’ve all got to be very careful. I have no idea who else resides there. Morfin’s probably not alone.”

* * *

“Stop fussing, Harry, this won’t hurt a bit.”

“I’m not going to tell you about her if you don’t at least let me sit up.”

“Are you going to drink it, or not?”

“No, I’m not.”

“What’s her name?”

“Make him drink it.”

“Fine. - _Imperio_ -! Drink it.”

Thorfinn Rowle gritted his teeth and crossed the room. “He’s fighting it. I can see it. Hit him!”

Morfin Longbottom swept his wand up, pointing it at the Death Eater. “You’re not supposed to touch him. Only I can touch him, and I’m certainly not allowed to hit him. Sit down, Rowle.” He returned his attention to Harry, who was strapped to a hospital-like bed. He was fighting desperately to throw off the curse. “Let it go, Harry. Relax now, let it happen.”

Walden Macnair shook the bed in an attempt to jar Harry into losing control.

“Back off,” Morfin said, ending the curse. “It’s hurting him. Let me try another way. - _Stupify_ -! - _Imperio_ -! Got him. Wake up, Harry. Put your head up. Okay, drink it.”

Rowle nudged the boy. “Well, what’s it telling you?”

Morfin threw a hand up while he scanned over the words forming in front of his eyes. “Oh no, this is not right. He’s still far too weak to return the curse properly. Everything is off the charts here. That thing is sucking his life away and killing him. The Healing Curse is keeping him alive but he’d be near death without it. Look at me, Harry. How much longer does this thing need to come out alive?”

“A month,” he said, letting the sweet floating sensation wash his aches and sadness from his mind.

“It’s reporting it should be born now.” Morfin shook his head. “That won’t do. Although you are stronger now, the Healing Curse is stretched beyond its limit. That thing has suspended it. It’s in stasis. If you were to so much as catch a cold you would die within a few days. We’ve got to remove it.”

“No,” he said, now fighting the curse with everything he had. Morfin cancelled it. Harry took several deep breaths to calm himself. “That’ll outright kill me. I made an Unbreakable Vow to have this, it must live.”

“Why would you do such a thing? Our master would never have allowed this.” Morfin was fretting, shaking his hands with worry. “How did you get so worn down? Why would you allow someone else to touch you?”

Macnair and Rowle stood up as the piercing sound of a loud hiss filled the room. “Someone’s at the wards.”

* * *

“…you just need to open ze wardz. Zere’s nothing to be ashamed of if you do, I’m ‘ere to ‘elp. ‘E is expecting me.” Matilda was swaying her hips, her eyes were closed, her arms extended in front of her in slow beckoning movement. Her moon-bright skin glowed. Her white-gold hair danced in slow motion. She had to go all in on these two Death Eaters. They were resistant to her charms and weren’t budging without it.

“…I…I’m not supposed to.”

“Pleaze, ‘arry needz me.” She began to hum light wispy notes, letting them drift through the air, carried by her aura. Ron was plugging his ears under the cloak.

“He is sick… Maybe we should let her in. The Dark Lord will kill us if he dies.”

“Yez, I can ‘elp ‘im.” The Death Eater held his wand up, dissipating the wards. Matilda stepped over the barrier, her hair still in motion, her skin still aglow. She brought her hand to her lips, kissing the tips of her fingers. She flicked the kiss at the ground and pointed to the rapidly growing fairy circle she’d just created. “Come to me, dance for me,” she commanded through song, her hand waving languidly over the fungi. Rowle and Macnair leaped from their brooms and ran to the circle to dance. “Who elze is inzide?” she asked.

“Only Morfin and Potter. He’s sick, Morfin’s going to remove that foetus to save him.”

Draco flinched beneath the Invisibility Cloak. Ron circled his waist. “Let’s get in there and stop him, mate. She’ll take care of these two.”

* * *

“Move, Harry. I don’t want to hurt you.” Morfin was pulling Harry along with an arm around his waist. “That Veela enthralled me earlier at the Minister’s home. I should have brought Trevor with me. I told you they can do that to men. Why didn’t you stop her?”

Harry made a coughing noise and shook his head.

Morfin reached up and touched his face. “Oh, that’s right. Anyway, I fear that may be her at the barrier. We need to get to the tomb and open it, that’s my number one priority. I reckon she may try to hypnotise me again for that money. I’m going to give her the money, I told her I would.”

They moved down the hill behind Riddle House. Harry could see the graveyard in the distance resting in the valley at the bottom of the hill. The sun had nearly set, casting ominous shadows within its grounds, making it appear even creepier than he remembered it back when he was a boy and had to face Lord Voldemort one on one. The young spawn could feel him tensing up and pressing his heels into the earth to slow their pacing. “Why are you making this difficult? We could have been there by now. Please stop dragging your feet, Harry.”

As they neared the bottom of the hill Morfin put his back to the stone wall separating them from Little Hangelton’s graveyard. He could feel his captive’s heart beating so rapidly under his ribcage, it was thrilling. His arms flapped like wings to expel his pent up energies. “I know exactly how you feel, Harry. I feel like I could spit fire right now. Our master will be back with us soon. This time he’ll talk to me and let me be his son. I’m going to make him so proud.”

Harry was shaking like a leaf, praying it was Draco, Ron or that Veela that had breeched the wards and would come down the hill at any moment and stop Morfin from dragging him into that mausoleum. His ill heath was returning. He broke out in a sweat.

“Got to catch my breath. You’re so much stronger than I’d imagined. How is Marvolo doing? I haven’t seen him since I was in Mr Malfoy’s winter home. He looked just like you. Does he remember me?” Morfin fidgeted with his wand for a moment, hurt that Harry was deliberately ignoring him, just like his father always did. Harry cleared his throat. Morfin gasped then chuckled. “Oh, I keep forgetting,” he said, and pulled the scarf out from between Harry’s teeth. “I thought you were ignoring me.”

“No, I wasn’t. Why don’t we wait until morning to open the tomb. I’m not feeling well. I’m feeling very sick, Morfin.”

“We’re just going to open it, get the memories and leave. C’mon, Harry, you promised him you’d do this. And I promised him I’d make you do this.” He hefted Harry to his toes and began moving again, toward the wooden door set in the stone wall.

Harry sighed. “Fine. I need that bottle.”

“What bottle?” Morfin asked, scratching his head.

“The bottle the Veela gave you. It’s to put the memories in.”

“Oh,” Morfin said, slipping a hand into his pocket. “This bottle?”

Harry smiled. “That’s the one.”

* * *

They reentered Riddle House quietly, Harry walking with Morfin more willingly now. He could sense the pulsing aura of the Veela, feel the magical energy of fierce bravery emanating from Ron and smell the cheap whiskey on Draco’s breath. “Morfin, it’s alright, NO ONE IS GOING TO HURT YOU,” he shouted into the room. “Let’s go finish this so your vow is complete, okay?”

Morfin stopped walking and plugged his ears. “Sure, Harry, but there’s no need to shout, I’m right here.”

Harry tipped his head sadly. “I just want to be very clear that NO ONE IS GOING TO DO ANYTHING TO HURT YOU OR STOP US, okay?”

Morfin’s hand was shaking funnily in front of him as he tried to cope with over stimulation. “Why do you keep shouting, Harry? I understood you the first time.”

“You’re right, how silly of me. Let’s get moving to the sub level then. I need to open that _vault-Ow_!” And as he took another step a tremendous amount of pain came along with it. Harry stopped moving, cringing, knowing instantly what had happened. “Ow,” he said again as the pain tightened. He tried to keep himself standing, they were so close to the door. Morfin was helping him limp. It was coming so fast, the clenching pain overwhelming him seemed dauntless. Through a cough, Harry murmured, “ _HeyRongogetSnapemate_ ” as he reached out to balance on a pillar.

Within a second there was a bit of rustling a loud _*pop*_ noise that startled Morfin, who seemed very confused. “I’m sorry, what?”

Harry grasped his hand, giving it a shake. “I need you to get me to that door, okay?” he said, looking the boy in the eye. He knew time was running out and if he didn’t complete his mission before Snape arrived, the bitter man would most likely kill Morfin. Morfin grabbed him around the middle as he doubled over in great trauma. “Keep going- Draco come out, help me! Morfin, don’t do anything hasty, he’s here to help.”

Draco grabbed Harry out of Morfin’s arms. His face was tense with worry and jealousy. It looked as if he might have been hitting his head on a pillar or something to stop himself from screaming. “What’s wrong, Har? Talk to me!”

Morfin was shaking his hands. “We’re still opening the door, right? Because I promised him I would make you.”

Matilda leaned out from behind the staircase. Her hair was in motion as she called to the flustered and mad wizard. “Come to me, let Draco take 'im to the door.”

Draco was beside himself. “What’s happening, Harry?”

“~ _Open up_ ~!” Harry shouted to a symbol burned into the wood. He curled into Draco’s embrace and pressed his lips against his cheek as his arms circled his neck. “I’m pretty sure we got the time wrong on the gestation, Draco. You’re about to become a father again. This part, along with this horrible pain I’m having, I do remember. Now, please, take me down there.”

* * *

Hermione’s knitted brow was sweaty, the perspiration was leaking down her face as she studied the enchantment Snape was reciting to her. Draco couldn’t take his eyes away, watching her swaying her head to and fro as she chanted, the sweat droplets threatening to break free and land somewhere near Harry. “You really need to wipe your face or move away, Mu- ‘mione,” he said, feeling Harry’s powerful grip crush the delicate bones in his left hand.

“Shut the hell up, Malfoy,” Ron said with a glare, looking up from the potion cauldron he was stirring. “I’ll come over there and make you see stars.”

“If I have to start again one more time you’ll be waiting outside until we’re finished, Draco,” Snape warned him. He looked back at Hermione, giving her a nod. “You’ve got the gist of it. We’ll begin mixing the ingredients. When the colour changes blue it’s ready.”

“Really would have been my last choice of places to have a child in,” Harry said, looking mopey, hearing the portrait of Sirius’s mother shrieking at him for defiling her home with an unnatural abomination from across the hall. He was on a bed in a parlour that had been converted into a makeshift potion brewing room. Draco was on the bed beside him, pampering him. “Except for maybe Riddle House.”

“Tell me why we let Morfin go, Har, I thought he was some sort of deranged person,” Draco said while touching and rubbing Harry’s hands and face. He couldn’t get over how much he liked touching the former Gryffindor’s golden skin.

“He is deranged and potentially dangerous, but deep down he’s just a little boy. We almost gave him a dose of that potion we gave Marvolo but your wife stopped Snape. He won’t be bothering us anymore. Plus, your wife was really taken with him... um literally, she took him when she left.” He returned the warm touches, kissing Draco’s squished hand. “Doesn’t matter, his vow was fulfilled when I opened the tomb and vault. And in thirteen years,” he glanced over to Snape, “Snape’s will be, too. We can’t stop Marvolo from entering the vault or Snape will die. We have to let it happen.” He cringed, his breathing accelerated to panting. His vision got spottier. “Has it turned blue yet? It feels like I’m fading, Snape.”

“It’s blue!” Hermione shouted, grabbing up her wand and throwing herself over Harry’s bed.

“Uh, you didn’t wipe your- Oh, okay, not going to let that bother me. Harry, I didn’t say it, ow, ow, ow!”

Snape crossed the room, signalling Ron to his side. “Get him off the bed and over to the wall. You’ll probably have to hold him to it, We need to cut Harry open now,” he said through a sneer, his eyes on Draco.

“Cut him open?” Draco gripped the bedstead, refusing to let go.

“It’s not coming out of his arse,” Snape murmured without looking up.

Ron bent Draco’s fingers back as painfully as he could and yanked the other man away from the bed. He threw his back up against the wall so he could watch. “No funny moves, Malfoy, or I’ll put you in a full body bind.”

“- _Diffindo_ -!”

Draco’s lungs froze, his lips parted and his eyes were as large as gold galleons as he watched Hermione cut an incision into seemingly nothingness. She reached in and pulled out the most beautiful little thing he had seen since Narcissa’s birth. It had a shock of white hair and the palest skin and it opened it’s lovely almond-shaped eyes. Through a murky blue the colour green like Harry’s was plainly there.

“Congratulations, Malfoy,” Hermione said. Once severing the cord, cleaning him up, wrapping the small boy in a blanket and showing Harry the little darling, she crossed the room and placed him in his father’s arms. “Number fifteen.”

“Number two,” he said snottily, but his eyes were on the sweet boy in his arms.

“No, actually, it’s fifteen. Your wife said every one of those Veela girls are yours. You’re just a big drunk who can’t remember anything.” She grinned very brightly at him as he gaped up at her, then turned on her heel and went back to check on Harry.

Harry waved him over and patted the side of the bed. “You need to break this to your father, Malfoy. I sort of promised his manor to your wife.”

Draco flinched. “What? How? You can’t do that.”

With a shrug of indifference, Harry disagreed. “I can, and I did. You don’t think she did this for free, did you? They really need the space, there’s so many of them. Give her your manor and she’ll have us over for Christmas.”

Hurt, Draco stared at him. “Why would you do that? What did we go through this for?”

Returning his stare, Harry clucked his tongue. “I got you and Cissy free and clear in exchange. We don’t even have to hide if we choose not to.”

Thinking on it, Draco shrugged. “Oh…” His eyes lit up. “You’re loaded, though, right?”

Hermione leaned over the bed, still smiling. “Yes, he’s loaded again. I spent a week in Azkaban to make sure of that.”

“Well then… Christmas, you say?”

“Yep, our babies with the Weasleys, Snape, all of your Veela daughters, your ex-wife and Morfin. It’s going to be fantastic.”

“He’s going to want to move in with-”

“No. Lucius can get a flat in Diagon Alley or something.”

“He’s not going to-”

“I don’t care.”

* * *

Thirteen years later…

A loud _*crack*_ filled the lower village street. Oak trees rustled under the drizzle of spring rain. Their great trunks and vast bouquet of leaves canopied the houses from the vision of the wizard and witch making their way toward the small winding graveyard path. “What is this place?” the witch whispered while massaging the hand clenched over her forearm. She dragged her feet in trepidation. There was a malevolent ambiance she sensed in this dark place. Her hand grazed across his the back of his, teasing the flesh. Her hair began to flutter so prettily. “I don’t like it here. _We could come back another time._ _You know you want to listen to me_ …”

The tall, dark-haired wizard abruptly stopped. Torchlight set alight his handsome face. “I have to do this, and I know what you’re trying to do to stop me. It won’t work.” His grip intensified on her wrist. He gave it a tug, forcing her to move with him once more.

“Damn you,” she hissed. She struggled to keep the pace of his long strides at such an awkward position. She smirked up at him, again resting her pale hand over his. “It worked last night.”

“Did it?” he said indifferently, returning the leer. “Or did I let you think it did?”

“You’re not _that_ clever.” Sprinkled-raindrops plastered the thin strands of silvery-white hair to her cheeks. The gates to the graveyard entrance burst open from magic emitted from the tip of her wand. “After you, git.”

“Oh no, I insist,” he replied, giving her a firm push through the opening. “Use some of that Gryffindor bravery you’re always bragging about.”

Courageous or not, the environment she had been thrust into sent an icy chill trickling down her spine. She tensed, hugging her arms. “Marvo, you’re out of your mind if you think I’m going in there.”

Cuddling her around the middle, Marvolo dropped his chin on her shoulder. “I won’t let anything happen to you. This place has been abandoned for years.”

Cissy examined the tombstones they would have to cross in order to reach the manor at the top of the hill. The grasses surrounding them were waist-high, adding to the disturbing atmosphere of the surroundings. Heaving in a great breath, she allowed Marvolo to press her on.

The decaying manor drew closer. A sense of warning flooded Cissy’s veins. She dug her heels onto the earth, stalling their journey once more. “This isn’t the place you were talking about, is it?”

“It is,” he stated, giving her another healthy shove. “This is where my father, the Dark Lord Voldemort, lived.”

“Marvo, you promised!” Cissy roared. She gripped her wand, feeling his arms tighten around her waist. “You said the temptation…you promised him you’d never come here!”

“Keep moving, and keep quiet! You don’t want to draw attention to us,” he growled back.

“I thought you said this place was deserted!”

Lifting Cissy off her feet, Marvolo trudged on. “It is, but you don’t know if there’s anything crawling around out there, harpy.”

The main doors gave away easily. Marvolo inhaled the scent of evil, heard the whispers of snakes in the walls and felt the tremor of dread from the Veela in his arms. “Oh, Mordred,” he shivered. The ghosts of his legacy floated all around them. Cobwebs fluttered in the breeze under the tips of their lighted wands. The home was a shambles of its former self but he did not care. All he needed to know was the location of what he was seeking.

Stepping inside both witch and wizard froze. The wooden floorboards creaked, bowing under pressure. “Be careful,” he said under his breath. Whispers of fortune slipped into his mind like silk. His head swayed toward it. It was unavoidable. He pointed to a small door to the side of the foyer. Boarded and chained it also held a magical signature distinct to Marvolo; hissing, calling his name. “That’s it. It’s down there.” He rubbed his arm instinctively, feeling the scar adorning it start to burn.

Cissy shook her head, refusing to budge. “This is bad. Everything is bad. Why did you bring me here?”

“Move, Malfoy!” Fearing walking too closely together might cave the floor in - but worried she might run off, Marvolo shoved her ahead of him. “I brought you because you need to see it.”

Now standing before the door, Marvolo concentrated on the symbol burned into the wood. Cissy ran her fingers over it in curio. “Father has this mark on his arm.”

“~ _I know. It’s the Dark Mark~_.”

“What did you say?” Cissy felt the skin on her arms prickle and the hairs on the nape of her neck stand straight up.

Marvolo looked at her, inclining his head. “It’s the Dark Mark; the symbol of Lord Voldemort. He burned it into his follower’s arms.”

“I know what the damned thing is but that’s not what you said,” she snapped, trembling and holding herself for comfort. “You hissed in that scary stupid snake voice. I don’t like it here, I want to go home!”

“Cissy, please, I didn’t mean to,” he declared, cupping her pretty face in his hands. He pressed his lips to hers and looked her in the eye. His normally unmoved expression was fraught with concern. “You’re my best friend. I wanted you to be here with me for support. I don’t know what will happen when I open the vault. I need you to be strong enough for both of us.”

Squaring her shoulders, she took his hands and gave them a squeeze. The thought of something harming Marvolo armoured her bearing. “Well, why didn’t you say that before?” They both turned back to the door. She held her wand across her chest. “Open the blasted thing.”

The words slithered through his lips. “~ _Open up~!_ ” The door shook, chains rattled and fell apart at each link and the boards burst into flames. Marvolo pulled Narcissa back as it burned and kissed the shell of her ear. “Don’t be afraid, there shouldn’t be any more surprises. Lord Voldemort wanted me to come down here when I came of age.”

“That’s what frightens me,” she replied.

Marvolo pushed the door open and stood on the top step of the stone staircase leading to the unknown. “Er,” he groaned, his bright-green eyes flickering with nervousness in the darkness. “Keep your wand out and a shield spell in mind, will you?”

Cissy stepped to his side and held her wand up for more light. “Shield spell? I’m this close to stunning you and dragging you back to school.”

Marvolo clasped his hand in hers and took the first step.

“Please, let’s go back and get daddy,” Cissy pleaded. “He can open it too, right? Please, Marvo!”

Marvolo pressed on, shaking his head. “He’s already done his part. It’s ready for me. Snape made the portkey here. It’s been calling to me all month in dreams. I have to do this.” He began descending into the sub level, Cissy’s hand clutched in his, their wands up and lit. “It’s so close,” he whispered, closing his eyes. “So close… calling me. ~ _I’m coming_ ~!”

“I see it!” Cissy shouted, pointing her wand into the small room at the glowing Pensieve set in the centre. A bottle of swirling silver smoke floated timelessly above it. She gave him one last nudge. “Are you sure about this?”

He gave her a nod. “I am. Join me, I want you to see it, too.” He grabbed the bottle and uncorked it, setting its contents pooling into the basin. Trepidation and elation flitted around his heart. “You ready?”

“Yes.” Together they threw themselves forward into the Pensieve.

With a glow of poisonous green flames flickering around the edges, vivid images of the past, of Lord Voldemort and his acts of horror against so many innocent people played before them. He was a true monster who showed no mercy to anyone he encountered. These were not the memories that were supposed to be implanted in Marvolo - yet they were still his and it was set and the vow was finally fulfilled. With a gasp for air, Marvolo pulled away and stumbled backward.

Narcissa sobbed in her hands. “He killed my grandmother, Marvo. He murdered her and he was laughing when he did it.”

Marvolo held his hand up to her and she took it, helping him to his feet. His mind was a jumbled mess. So many horrible images burned forever into his psyche. At one time he’d been flattered thinking about the genius his father was, if only his ideals were more in tune with his other father’s. But now, in this light, seeing first hand what Lord Voldemort had done to so many, to his father, to Ron, to Snape, to Hermione, and even to himself as a tiny infant, he could never feel anything other than loathe for him.

“~Are you alright, Marvolo~?” The witch and wizard looked up the staircase, seeing Harry, Draco and Severus looking down at them.

He gave his father a curt nod. “I’m good. Ready to get out of here and never come back.”

Snape’s eyes closed as the morose magic he was bound to evaporated from his skin. “It’s done, it’s over,” he said, opening his eyes and smiling for the first time since before the war had begun. He looked at Harry and Draco, still grinning from ear to ear, feeling quite well. “Right, so I’m moving out. I’ve already packed. Good bye.” He gave the children a wave. And with that he was gone.

Shrugging, Draco took a step forward into the sub level, his eyes glued on the children. “Is it just me or did I see you two kiss at some point? There was an awful lot of innuendo between you two.”

“I saw it, too,” Harry said, making a bothered face. “And heard it.”

Narcissa was gaping back at them. “I knew you’d do this when you found out. Mum said mystical creatures are better off being together. She’s absolutely fine with it.”

Draco snarled. “She would be.” He took Harry’s hand. “We’re leaving. Get back to school. Don’t touch each other. I will be sending an owl off to the headmaster. Go.”

Harry clicked his tongue. “Oh, Draco, let them be. You know how it is.”

Wrapping an arm around him, Draco lifted Harry up while still glaring at the two teens. “Shut up, scarhead. Taking you home and making you pay for this… with you-know-what.”

_“Yeck!”_

“I said get back to school!”

“Let’s go, twitchy.”

The End

**Author's Note:**

> If you liked this, please pay me with kudos!


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